Dark Eyes
by MarcoLover16
Summary: AU Darco. You're lucky, they say. What do they even know? Have they ever gone through it? No. Hate hurts not only the hated, but also the haters.
1. Alive and Lucky

A/N: Okay, warning: A/U. This story is extremely A/U. Normally, I hate writing things that don't go by the show, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so…there you go. This chapter is more of an introduction, so it's obviously going to be different from the rest of the story. Also, it'll probably be a bit confusion as to his main issue until the end of the chapter, but maybe some of you can figure it out early. I dropped a few little hints, but you'll find out a bit at the end of the chapter, and the rest (of the situation) you'll find out chapter two. I'm probably just making it more confusing.Lol.

Marco set out his new clothes (that he was bribed with if he came quietly) on his bed. He'd tried on every pair, eventually deciding that it didn't matter too much anyway. Yes, an odd thought by Marco Del Rossi, but based on the situation, he felt pretty uncaring about the way he looked.

"Il domani è il giorno," he said softly, moving his clothes to the chair near his bed. It was time for sleep. He sighed. "Tomorrow is the day," he corrected himself. It was English from now on. It'd be hard to get used to.

"You can do this, Marco," he told himself, breathing deeply. "It's a school."

Marco put his hand on the wall helping to guide himself further out of the doorway. "Don't trip," he whispered. He'd been doing a lot of talking to himself lately. It was the only way to get the day.

"Marco," said his mother. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?" she asked…in English. It was all so new. Despite the language, he could hear the concern in her voice. "Big day tomorrow."

He frowned. "Is there any way I'll be able to get myself out of this 'big day'?" he asked, knowing well that it was a lost cause.

"Of course not, sweetie. Watch it!" she yelled, grabbing his wrist to pull him out of harm's way. He rolled his eyes. It's not like he had forgotten there was a fridge in front of him.

"I was going to move, _mother,"_ he told her, irritated. "I just don't understand why," he started, walking carefully to the kitchen table and sitting down, "we had to move."

"Marco," Marco could tell her voice was stern, and she wasn't going to take any complaints. "Marco, you know that this was for you--"

"I was fine!" he interrupted, quite angry at the accusation that he might have wanted to leave. "I liked it there, in fact."

"Your father…"

"Could have left," he finished for her, "but we had to."

She sighed. "I chose it this way because of Giulio," she went with the other side of her little "plan".

"Ma," said Marco, fed up with her reasons.

He wanted to know why she had pulled him away from Milano (Milan), from Italy, from his home. Why did they move? Sure, she said it was because of his father and because of his cousin, but that still wasn't enough for him because they could have found away from Giulio and his father without having to leave the country, though he did have the same ill feelings about Giulio that his mother did. However, he loved his father. Their parents told him time and time again how much they both didn't want to divorce to happen, but in the end, it did.

"Yes?" she asked, tired. Marco wished he could tell what she was feeling, but the tone of voice was really the only clue he had that she was a bit stressed out.

"I just want to know why," said Marco. "Why?"

She gave him the simplest reason any part could give a child and, yet, the answer would still be considered acceptable simply because she was an adult. Marco didn't even see how this answer fit his question at all.

"Because I said so," He sighed. Was that always it?

"You should put something warmer on," she advised, looking him up and down.

"First of all," he said, pointing to his bare chest, wearing only shorts, "it's almost ninety- five degrees out. Second of all, stop trying to swerve the conversation."

"The conversation," said his mother, lifting herself from the chair, "is over, Marco."

"No," he argued, "it's not."

"Marco!" His mother grabbed his wrist, once again, this time to prevent his tripping over the chair. He ripped his arm away from her, not caring that she was trying to protect him.

"I don't need your constant protection!" he screamed, walking angrily (and slightly more carefully) to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

He hated Canada. He hated it. He didn't care how nice or mean the people at school were. He didn't care how beautiful or ugly the sights were because he wouldn't be seeing them anyway. He just wanted to go home. He wanted everything to be back to normal. Damnit, he hadn't wanted the divorce to happen, but if it had to, couldn't he have stayed in his own home? At least, his own town? His own country? Was it too much to ask, really?

Aside from the fact that he missed the town, he also missed his friends. What were they doing as he thought about them? Karina, Christoforo, Maria… Did they miss him too? Of course, they said they would, but after a while, don't people just stop missing their old friends so much? It would happen to them. However, it wouldn't happen to him because he wasn't going to make any friends at Degrassi. Nope. It wasn't going to happen because he didn't want any new friends. Yes, he was definitely being immature, but he didn't care. He wanted to go home.

Would he have to start over? He already had so many problems with telling his friends and parents that he was gay. Maria and Christoforo even avoided him for almost three months. His father had begged him to say that it was a phase, but Marco wished it had been too. It definitely wasn't.

So, would it be the same at Degrassi Community School? If he decided to change his mind (unlikely) and befriend someone, would he simply lose him or her over his sexuality? He wasn't going to go through that again. Besides, it was in his nature to hide it. No matter what, his mouth was shut.

He pulled the blanket over his body. Yes, it was hot, but he couldn't sleep unless he had a blanket on. He sighed, rolling over to face the wall, knowing that it was, indeed, the wall only because he was laying on his left side, and his mother had explained that was where they had put the bed.

He missed the time where he and Karina would just sit and stare at the posters on his bedroom wall. Mostly, they would stare at the picture of Leonardo DiCaprio, and the two would fantasize about which one of them Leonardo would marry. However, Marco explained that she could have him because he was a bit too girly for his taste. Karina laughed at that.

In fact, he missed his posters almost as much as he missed her. His mother had told him that he would be allowed to make his room feel as much like home as possible, but he didn't put the posters up. It wasn't the same.

"What I'd give to see you again, Karina. Literally, **see** you." He knew he could call her, but that wasn't the same either. He needed her, Christoforo, Maria, his father, and his home. In case he hadn't stressed it enough to his mother, he wanted to go home.

He loved his mother with his whole heart, but she just didn't understand his troubles right now. The worst part was that she thought she was helping him. After what happened, he didn't want to move away. After what happened, the most important thing to him was to be with his friends, but she was always trying to help, and lately her 'help' only seemed to be making things worse.

Another thing she was doing was constantly telling him when he was going to fall or crash. It embarrassed him, but more importantly, made him feel weak. It made him feel like he couldn't handle himself. By doing that, she was just drawing attention to the fact that he couldn't see where he was going. Couldn't she see he wanted to crash? He wanted to fall and get used to his surroundings, but what she was doing wasn't letting him have the failures he needed to help himself. He didn't want to depend on her to get him around.

His mother also had the nerve to tell him that it could have been worse. Of course, that's what a person says when they haven't been through it. His father had repeated the same words. "You're lucky, Marco."

Lucky. He didn't feel so lucky. Marco wanted to see if one of them had lost eyesight permanently, if they had gone blind, would they have felt lucky?

They pretended they understood, but they didn't. Marco didn't blame anyone for it, either. It's something you can't understand unless it happens to you, but he wished they'd stop pretending like they did understand it.

Did his mother know how hard it was to start in a new place where, not only had even never been, but also would never see it anyway? Did she know how, though it would have been hard to adjust, he would have much preferred getting used to being blind in a place that he had lived forever?

Did any of his friends understand how, though they might never see him again, at least they could **see **him at all when he left, where he couldn't?

And, for the love of God, did Karina know how upsetting it was to stare with her at a poster for almost an hour, knowing that he couldn't, and never would, see what she was seeing?

No. No, they didn't. Again, he didn't blame them. It wasn't their fault. In fact, he was happy they could see…most of the time. He tried not to be jealous, though over the month, there had definitely been a few times where that little flaw had come into play.

So, he was lucky he hadn't died. Blindness is a small price to pay to save your life, they said. How would they know? They had never died? Come to think of it, they had never been blind either.

He mechanically turned off the light. He didn't even know why it had been on in the first place. It was just a waste of electricity for him. He pulled the covers over his head, and tried to catch some sleep. It was hard to do, though. He was too busy thinking of his 'big day', which was to consist of starting as the new kid in school. New in Canada, the gay Italian blind boy. Big day, indeed.

A/N: I know it was pretty short, but it was only the introduction. Honestly, tell me what you thought of it. This will be Darco, as always lol. I thought I wasn't going to have anything up because of this stress in my family, but I guess when I'm stressed, I force out some writing. Hehe. So, please review with your honest opinions. My fourteenth story! Yay me!


	2. Blind or something?

**A/N: For some reason, in the middle and at the end, there's something wrong with the spacing, and it's bunched up together really weird, not letting me put separate paragraphs. I deleted and fixed it about eight times to no avail. Ugh. If anyone has any idea why, let me know. If not, hopefully it won't do that next chapter.**

"Marco," said his mother, knocking loudly on the door, "it's time to get up." Marco simply groaned in response.

"Marco," she repeated, beginning to lose patience.

"I'm up!" he shouted, proving his point by closing his dresser loudly. "I'm just not so happy about it!"

"Good morning," she said, and walked back to her own room.

Marco sighed. His opinion hadn't changed about the new school. It also didn't help that it was five a.m. He could be an early riser when he wanted to be, but he definitely didn't want to be.

He felt around for the chair that had his clothes on it, hoping to God that they matched. He hadn't been overly concerned picking out the clothes. Now that he was about to wear them, he was quite nervous about the way they looked.

"Potete fare questo," he said to himself as he carefully dressed. He shook his head. "You can do this."

Marco managed to get his clothes on with only a few falls, which was an improvement compared to all the other times he'd done it.

He held his arm out, making sure it hit the doorknob, preventing him from simply grabbing at thin air. After he felt it. He opened the door slowly. What should have been such a quick trip from the bedroom to the kitchen was made so much longer by one ailment.

"Ma," he called out her name, assuming she was in her room still, but was surprised when he heard her voice right behind him.

"What do you want for breakfast, Marco?" she asked. Marco heard the cabinets opening and closing, so he assumed she'd already started on something. Once upon a time, he'd make his own breakfast.

"I'm not hungry," he answered, dropping his head on the table.

"Nonsense. I'll make you eggs." Marco knew this, of course. She had already started doing it before she asked him what he wanted. He could smell them from miles away.

"Whatever," said Marco.

"Cathy is going to be here in a few minutes to take you to school, Marco," said Mrs. Del Rossi, putting some eggs onto her son's plate.

"Who's that?" he asked, not caring that he sounded rude.

"Your new…" she tried to think of an appropriate word, "helper."

"I don't need one," said Marco quickly, as he spilled over his water. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course you don't," she replied sarcastically, immediately cleaning up the mess. "She's only going to go to school with you, Marco."

"And follow me around the entire day? I don't think so," Marco told her angrily.

"Marco, I'm not going to argue with you. She'll be here in a minute," said his mother, suggesting that he was to stop. He threw his hands up in the air quickly.

"Whatever," he muttered again, giving up.

The doorbell rang only a moment later, and Marco wasn't taking it well. "Right on time, I see."

"Be nice," warned his mother. "Anger doesn't suit you, Marco."

Marco ate his eggs quietly, not really interested in eating, but knowing that he had to do something to keep himself busy, he ate them.

"Marco, this is Cathy," said his mother, walking back into the kitchen. The only hint Marco had of there being another woman in the room was the fact that he'd heard heeled shoes scuffing the floor. His mother never wore heels.

"Hello, Marco," said the woman loudly. His mother was always cautious talking to him lately. This woman didn't seem to care, however.

"Hi," said Marco, being as polite as he felt necessary. It felt odd to be traveling around with a woman he didn't know. Besides, if she were to pull out a gun on him, he wouldn't even see it.

"My son is a little apprehensive about school--"

"I'm not apprehensive!" he defended, "I just don't want to go."

"That's fine," said Cathy. "I understand."

Marco tried to detect her emotions. It was always so easy to tell what his mother or father was feeling based on the tone of voice, but hers was kept so purposely neutral.

"Are you ready to go, Marco?" she asked. Marco could tell now that she sounded…excited.

"Not really, but I suppose I have no choice," he answered, grabbing his backpack from the chair next to him.

"That's the spirit," Cathy laughed. "Let's go, sweetheart." Sweetheart- a term of endearment. What was with this woman? Marco reminded himself that he had no logical reason to dislike her. He simply disliked the fact that he actually _needed_ her.

"When we get to the school, you can help me," Marco suggested, knowing that he couldn't deny the fact that he did need her help, "but walking out of the house, to the car, and all that…I'm fine."

"Fine," she replied, still in that happy tone. It bothered him.

"Good luck, Marco," his mother wished him a good day, as he walked out the door with Cathy.

"My car is right in front of you," said Cathy, waiting for him to open the door.

He sighed. "Right in front of me? Where's the door?" he asked.

"Find it," she commanded. "You don't want my help."

Marco knew she had a good point. He didn't want her help, but still it was frustrating to have to search for the handle when she could just open it in a second. Finally, he found the handle, and pulled the door open.

Sitting down in the cold leather seat, Marco could feel the anticipation in his heart rising. His mother was right. He really was afraid.

"I need to ask you something," said Marco after he was sure they had started driving.

"Sure," said Cathy.

"What do you look like? Hair color? Eye color? I need to know these things," said Marco. He couldn't help but wonder.

"Well," she said, biting her lip, "I just bit my lip," she laughed. "Alright, I have blonde hair down to the top of my shoulders, bright green eyes…anything else?" she asked, still cheerful.

"Yeah," said Marco. "What do you know about this school I'm going to?"

"Well, I went to Degrassi. I loved it there. It became my home," she answered truthfully. "I know you'll like it too."

"Mhmm," his mother had told him the same thing.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" asked Cathy.

"Sure," said Marco, becoming quite curious.

"Considering I've worked with many blind people before, I've always wondered this, but never asked for fear of invading personal space, but I want you to know you can ask me anything, so I'd like to ask you this. What do you miss?" she asked.

Marco thought for a moment. Technically, he missed his friends and home, but he knew she was talking about what he missed seeing. What did he miss? He supposed he missed everything, really, especially meeting people. He'd always been quite a social person, and meeting people wasn't quite as enjoyable when you couldn't tell them apart from everyone else besides by their voices.

Finally, the true answer came to him. Even he was surprised by it. "Reading."

He could tell she was surprised as well. "Well, we could definitely teach you to read by **Braille**." 

"It's not the same," he whispered, leaning his head on the window.   
"I know," said Cathy. Then, the conversation was over because Marco wanted to enjoy the rest of the car ride, to his doom, in peace.   
"Here we are," said Cathy, walking over to the other side of the car to help Marco walk find his way to the staircase leading up to the school doors. 

Marco waited impatiently, trying not to seem too anxious. He took the arm she offered, and jumped out of the car. He held onto her arm tightly as she helped him up the stairs. Out of all the things Marco had to get used to, stairs were the scariest because he never knew when they were going to end. He counted them in his head, so that he wouldn't need her guidance the next time he climbed them.   
"One more," said Cathy, only helping him slightly.   
"Alright…now, doors?" he asked, pointing his finger in front of him. She took her head. 

"Just move a bit to the right," she moved his pointed finger to the direction of the doors. He nodded. 

"Move just straight," she conducted, letting him move on his own. She figured she could just guide him with as little contact as possible. He preferred that.   
"Well, you're in the school now," she talked him through it. "Now, we're just going to have to go into the office to get your schedule, alright? Actually, I'll just go in. You can just stand right out here, right?" she asked, touching his shoulder. 

"You're letting me?" he asked, shocked. 

"Of course. Honey, there are no specific rules. This isn't my job. I'm doing this as a favor to your mother. Besides," she rolled her eyes, "it's so much quicker this way. We don't want you to be late," she laughed. 

Marco smiled, for the first time since they moved there. "Okay," he let her walk into the office behind him. He had to admit that it was a little weird being left alone in a place he'd never been before. Okay, so she was right behind him in the office, but he hated hearing all the voices around him, seeing no one. 

Suddenly, he felt someone's presence quite close to his face. He stood there for a moment, thinking it might have been Cathy coming out of the office. 

"Helllo, you blind?" asked the boy, apparently waiting for him to move. "You're blocking the doorway," he said, annoyed. 

"Sorry," Marco moved out of the way. He remembered he used to say things like that. The comment was such an off-hand thing that no one was bothered by it, but Marco understood now how horrible it was. People threw the words 'blind' and 'deaf' around so easily. Would he have said it if he knew Marco was blind? 

"Yeah," the boy muttered, opening the office door. Marco heard it swing shut, and then open again. 

"Marco," said Cathy, "would you like me to stay around you from now on?" Obviously she had heard what the boy said. "I will tell you from now on where you're blocking someone." 

He shook his head. "I don't care. I'll block them if I want to." 

Cathy sighed. For the first time that morning, her happy voice seemed to fade. "Are you alright?" she asked. 

"Truthfully, no," he said, grabbing her hand as they faced unfamiliar territory toward his first period room, "I don't want to be here. It's freaky." 

"I understand," she said, "but not about being blind. It has to be difficult." 

"You have no idea," said Marco, looking down at the ground. It felt more natural to be looking down. At least people could understand, if they didn't know he was blind, that while he was looking down, he couldn't see them. 

"I don't understand. How am I going to read and such in class?" he asked, growing more apprehensive as they neared the room. 

"The teachers know about your situation. For today, none of that will be necessary, since it's the first day. We are still trying to figure out something. No one is going to expect you to read a book or something in front of the class, Marco," she laughed. "Don't worry, okay? We're working on it. Eventually, though, you will be taught Braille." 

"That'll take forever," Marco whined. He wasn't looking forward to this. He wanted now, more than ever, for it all to end. 

"That's why I said eventually. Relax, Marco. When you do need to read, someone will be there to help you. Promise you won't stress?" she asked, always the calm one. Of course, she had no reason to stress. 

"Sure," Marco replied. "Are you leaving me now?" They had arrived at the door of his English class. 

"I suppose," she answered. Marco was surprised when she hugged him. Even his mother hadn't done that. "I'll be by to pick you up just a minute or two before the end of the period to take you to your next class." 

Marco nodded. "I don't want to face them," he admitted, hearing all the voices and laughter of the students in the room. 

"You'll be fine," said Cathy, practically pushing him into the room. 

"Wait…do we have to tell them…I mean, in there, about my…" 

"Blindness?" she finished for him. He nodded. "Well, Marco, I'm pretty sure Ms. Kwan told them. We thought it would be for the best," she said, almost regrettably. "Why?"   
"Damnit," Marco cursed. He didn't want to be treated differently. "Well, Cathy, I'm just sick and tired of 'Don't crash. Don't fall. Be carefull.' I'm sure you understand…" 

"Honey," Cathy put her hand on his shoulder again, smiling at him. The smile might have made him more secure if he could see it. "It'll be alright. Just walk in and don't draw attention to yourself." 

Marco scoffed. "Right, like that's going to be easy." 

Cathy left without another word, and Marco guided himself into the classroom slowly. He was surprised to hear none of the conversations stopped. They all simply carried on with their annoying chatter, but it pleased him. He wasn't the center of their attention. He was doing okay…until it happened. 

Marco was gently pulling himself around Ms. Kwan's desk, (she determinedly let him walk himself for fear of embarrassing him) and he crashed. How was he to know the wall was going to be right next to her desk? Didn't normal people put their desks closer to the door or the center of the room? What was wrong with this teacher? Yes, he was angry with the defenseless teacher because her desk was too close to the wall for his liking. After his face hit the wall loudly, everyone's talking ceased. The silence was absolutely _brutal._ He kind of wanted to hit the wall again, hoping to block out the pain their eyes were causing him. 

Their eyes. He couldn't see them. He didn't know what any of them looked like, but nonetheless, he knew all of those eyes were on him. He's been in the class no more than thirty seconds and he had managed to make a fool of himself. 

He turned around slowly, refusing to let the crash ruin him, and began to walk to the back of the room. The first word was spoken. 

"Just sit anywhere you like, Marco," said Ms. Kwan. He nodded, but didn't turn to face her. There was no way he was going to do something stupid again. 

He brushed his hand by each chair to feel if there was someone there. No, he didn't rub his hands on them, but simply tapped for a split second, and moved on to the next. As he moved on in his trip to find a seat, it still remained silent. Finally, one student had mercy. 

"You can sit by me," said a girl he had almost passed by. She pointed to the chair on the other side of her, forgetting he couldn't see it. He hadn't yet passed that chair. She shyly took his hand, leading him to the chair, trying as hard as she could to not make a big deal of it. Marco appreciated the manner in which she did it. 

He sat down in the chair offered to him and smiled. "Thank you," he whispered, facing the front of the room. 

She turned to him. "Not a problem," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Ellie…and," she withdrew her hand. "You don't even know it's there," she laughed. "Wow…I'm an idiot."   
"I'm Marco," he said, assuming that she already knew. 

"Cool," she said. The silence had finally worn off and people were beginning to converse a bit with their friends again. Marco sighed in relief. 

"So, uh…where are you from?" she asked. With most people, it seemed they made conversation to try to stop worrying about his blindness or they felt bad for him. She seemed to really want to know. No friends, he reminded himself. He could answer her question.   
"Italy." 

"Really?" she asked. "That's really cool. You know English, though?"   
"From birth, they taught me English and Italian. I don't really know why, but my family only spoke Italian around me as I got older, so that was my more common tongue."   
"Wow," she said. Oddly, it interested her. "So, why did you move here?" she asked.   
"Funny," said Marco, "I have to keep asking myself that same question." 

**A/N: So….what did you think? Please review!**


	3. Crash

A/N: New Chapter. Yay! There is something completely wrong with the spacing! If someone knows what to do…help.

"Marco," said Cathy, as he made his way slowly to the doorway, "I'm here to take you to uh…media immersion."

"Oh," Ellie said, coming up behind him. "Well, if you wanted, I could take him there. I mean, I'm going to the same place."

Cathy and Ellie were talking about him as though he wasn't there, which embarrassed him more than anything. He wasn't a child, and he didn't care who took him to his next class as long as he got there.

"Is that okay with you, Marco?" asked Cathy, letting him have his own opinion in the matter.

"Sure," he answered, reaching his hand out for Ellie to take it. She did so tightly.

"Alright, if you need me, you can call me, okay?" asked Cathy, and he felt her lips on his cheek. Marco nodded.

"Ready to go?" asked Ellie, moving him into the hallway. "I suppose I didn't give you too much time to answer," she laughed.

"No one ever does," Marco said, laughing as well. "What, exactly, is media immersion?" he asked. "Ow," he commented as someone pushed past him.

"Sorry about that," said Ellie, trying to keep him away from more students in the crowded hallway. "Media immersion is…like…computers? No other way to explain it. Simpson's a good teacher; you'll like him."

"If you say so," he stayed quiet through the rest of the trip down the hall. It was too complicated to talk and avoid colliding at the same time.

Marco was still slightly confused in getting around the hallways. He knew Ellie was good at helping him, but he still got an ominous feeling in every step he took. He was so happy when Ellie told him that he was almost there, saying to himself he was getting better when someone crashed right into him.

"Why?" was the only word he could think of to say, as he was on the cold tile floor, angry that he had fallen. He wasn't sure whom to blame, though. His attacker, or himself for not seeing him coming.

"I am so sorry," said the attacker in a deep voice, holding out his hand for Marco to grab. He waited for Marco to take it, laughed, and backed up so Marco could hoist himself up. Marco didn't see the boy's offered hand, but he was simply glad that the boy had gotten up.

"I really am sorry," he repeated. Marco had yet to answer. He waved it off.

"It's fine," said Marco, smoothing his jeans subconsciously.

"You sure?" asked the boy, sounding anxious. "Because you seem pretty pissed off," he laughed.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he's fine, Michalchuk. Aren't you going to be late?"

Dylan shrugged, picking up the books he dropped, and moved in the other direction. He called over his shoulder, "You should know better, Nash. I never go to class."

Ellie laughed. "Come on, Marco," she pushed him carefully into the room. "I'm sorry about that. I should have warned you. I just sorta fo--"

"Please," Marco interrupted, "don't be sorry for that. I like when people don't warn me," he explained.

"Here's a seat," she pulled his hand to the back of an empty chair. "You like crashing into walls and people?" she asked, amused.

Marco laughed. "Well," he ran his left hand through his hair, thinking of the best way to make her understand, "I don't particularly enjoy it, but I hate when people are like fanatic about the warnings. Marco can't get himself around! You know what I mean?" he asked, wondering if his point had been made.

"Completely," said Ellie. "No more warnings. However," she turned to her new friend with a smile, "if you're about to fall down a huge flight of stairs, then can I warn you?"

"Definitely," he replied. "I'm terrified of stairs."

"Cool," she laughed.

"Alright, everyone. That was the bell. First day of school…"

"So, it's seventh period," said Ellie, as she watched him put his books in his locker. "You've made it almost through your first day at Degrassi. Do you like it here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Truthfully," said Marco, closing the locker door, "I want to go home."

Ellie nodded sympathetically. "I understand," she said, taking his hand. He was getting rather used to this handholding. At the beginning of the day, he was so concerned that people were going to be making comments about the two of them, but since most of the people in their grade knew he was blind, it didn't really matter. What the older and younger kids thought, he honestly couldn't care anymore. Ellie helped him. Ellie tried to understand him. He liked Ellie. Most importantly, when he said he didn't want her to help him with something, she didn't insist; she let it go.

"We're off to lunch, which is pretty much the highlight of my day," said Ellie, walking into the cafeteria. "You going to sit with me?" she asked.

"No," said Marco, smiling. "Let me just go find some of the other friends I met," he laughed. "If you'll have me there, of course."

Ellie playfully swatted his arm. "Hey!" Marco exclaimed. "That's an unfair advantage. You can't hit a blind guy."

Ellie and Marco walked together to a table practically in the center of the entire lunchroom. Ellie pulled on his hand, motioning stop, and suggested he sit down.

"Marco," said Ellie, "I'd like you to meet Ashley Kerwin," she pointed over at Ashley, who waved.

"Well, that does him a lot of good," said Hazel, laughing. "Say 'hi', Ash."

"Right. Hi, Marco," she said, uncomfortable. "Sorry. It's just, we have to get used to your…uh…blindness."

"That's fine," answered Marco, explaining that he understood her worry. "I still need to get used to it myself," he smiled, still lowering himself into the chair.

"Well, anyway," continued Ellie, "this is Jimmy Brooks, Hazel Aden, Spinner Mason and…" she paused for dramatic effect, "my best friend in the whole word, Paige Micalchuk."

Paige smirked. "Funny, Eleanor. Hi, Marco. It's nice to officially meet you."

"You too," said Marco, being polite. "Wait, Ellie," he said, confused, "Isn't that…are you related to that boy I banged into today?" he asked Paige, slightly wondering whether or not he was even looking in her direction.

"Oh my gosh!" she yelled. "You're the boy Dylan knocked into this morning!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"Wow, Paige," said Spinner, touching her shoulder. "Don't get so excited."

"Shush," she said, pushing him away. "That's so funny! I can't believe you're the boy he was talking about all morning."

Marco followed the sound of her voice, now directly facing her. "How much could he have possibly said? We crashed, he apologized, and he walked away."

"Well, nothing," said Paige. Ashley sighed.

"Paige, what did he say?" she asked, quite curious.

"Well, I don't want to make Marco feel weird because of this, but he said that he thinks you're really cute," she laughed.

"Oh," said Marco, trying to appear unaffected. It didn't really bother him that Paige's brother thought he was cute. No, absolutely not. In fact, the thought was rather flattering. What bothered him was he could never same the same about him because he had never seen Dylan and he never would.

"Sorry," said Paige, and Marco could tell she was smiling. "You don't have a problem with gays, do you?" she asked suspiciously.

"No, of course not!" Too quick. "I mean," he started again, "no, I don't. If he's gay, that's okay."

"Good," she said softly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little meeting with Mr. Armstrong to attend."

Marco felt the table move slightly as she got up from her seat. The others said good-bye to her, and Marco kind of wished she had stayed. He just wanted to know a little bit about Dylan…just a bit.

"Marco," said Ellie, breaking him out of his little daydream, "you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, honest as possible, opening the Snapple and taking a long sip.

"So, Marco," started Hazel, feeling the need to converse with him, "what do you like to do?" she asked, probably for lack of something more interesting to ask.

"Well, I used to like to read and write, but that doesn't really work anymore. I like to listen to music," he said, trying to make her feel the least awkwardness possible.

"Cool, me too." The others were either too afraid or uninterested in talking any longer than needed to the new boy, so Hazel eventually gave up and went on with her previous talking. Ellie tapped his shoulder as if to say, 'You're doing well.'

"So, how was your first day?" asked Cathy on the ride home.

Marco shrugged. "Fine, I guess. You're not upset that I sort of ditched you, are you?" he asked. He had been concerned about that towards the end of the day.

"No, honey," she said, ashamed that he would even think that. "I'm glad you found a friend."

Marco rolled his eyes. "She's not my friend. She's just a girl," he answered, not sure what else to replace 'friend' with. He liked Ellie, but he wouldn't refer to her as his friend. He was quite stubborn that way.

"Mhmm," she laughed knowingly. "Of course."

"Whatever," said Marco. He wasn't even going to bother to explain it to her. She'd probably start talking about how Ellie was his girlfriend or something. Please.

"Well, here we are," she said cheerfully. "You don't want my help to walk up your driveway, I suppose?" He nodded. "I'll be here tomorrow, same time, alright?"

"Bye," he closed the door.

Marco waited until he heard her car roll down the street before he attempted to make his way into the house. The last thing he needed was for her to see him fall flat on his face. He managed to make it up to the porch without anything terrible happening (even up the stairs)! It was a big improvement and, for that, he was proud of himself.

He opened the front door to find that his mother was in the living room watching television. She heard the door close.

"Marco!" she called out immediately.

"Hey, ma," he said, accepting her hug.

"How was your day?" she asked, way too excited for his taste. He laughed at the enthusiasm.

"Better than expected," he replied, "but still not good," he added, for he didn't want her thinking he might not want a chance to go back home.

"Well, I'm glad you're not miserable, at least," she sighed. "I'm making dinner. I will call you when it's ready." His mother kissed his cheek, and sent him down the hallway to his room.

Marco felt his way down the relatively familiar path to his bedroom, sighing as he lay upon the bed he had missed so much during the long day of constant walking.

He had barely been down for a moment when the doorbell rang. Stupid doorbell. It was affecting his resting time. It didn't matter much, anyway. His mother would simply get it and the person would walk away satisfied.

"Marco," came a knock on his door. "Marco, there's a boy at the door for you. I think his name is Dylan…he says he has something of yours."

A/N: Review, please. Oh, no. I am getting sick!


	4. You're fun to talk to

Chapter 4

A/N: I bet you all are just dying to see Dylan again. Lol. Here you go. Let's hope the spacing works this time.

Marco quickly sat up. That boy. Dylan was here? He was in his house?

"Well, what did you tell him?" Marco asked immediately. How long had Dylan and his mother talked?

"Relax, Marco," she raised her hands in the air in her defense. "I said I'd come get you; that's all."

"Okay," he said, relieved. "Don't help me," he warned. "The door is easy to make it to."

Marco walked by his mother, careful not to step on her foot, and made it to the hallway. He made it through the first part of his trip unharmed. He walked through the short hallway, grabbing the table as the first thing in his way when he made it to the kitchen…still in one piece. He took a few more steps with his mother right behind him. He could do this easily without making Dylan even need to know he couldn't see where he was going. Unless Paige had told him, which he supposed she hadn't since she only found out they 'crashed' at lunch time. He'd probably come straight after school to see him.

"Here he is," said Mrs. Del Rossi. Dylan had no idea she was actually talking to Marco.

"So," Marco started, after his mother had walked away, "what have you got for me?" he asked, wishing he didn't have to ask.

"Uh, well…I didn't know how important this is, so I thought I'd bring it back to you, just in case. When we collided, I picked it up by mistake. I'm sorry," said Dylan, holding the notebook out to him, "I just thought it was mine."

"Oh," said Marco, silently cursing. He didn't want to look like an idiot groping the air while he tried to find the book. He sighed. "Thanks for bringing it to me," he said, smiling.

"Sure. No problem," he laughed, still holding out the book, waiting for Marco to take it. Marco tried to follow the sound of his voice to find his arm.

"Just throw the book on the ground," he told Dylan, already succeeding in making a fool of himself after he swore he wouldn't.

"Okay, then," Dylan responded, not sounding too fussed. He threw the book down on the ground just like he had been told, and Marco was able to pick it up, feeling it land by his foot.

"Well, I don't believe I've properly introduced myself. I'm Dylan," he said, holding out his hand. Honestly, why did they always do that? Couldn't they see he was sick of the hand-shaking. However, he was able to locate the hand. That wasn't the problem. It was just finding it that looked stupid.

"Is there something wrong?" Dylan asked. He must have noticed the clearly unhappy look on Marco's face.

"Not really," Marco answered. "I'm Marco."

"Nice to meet you, Marco." Honestly, Toronto and handshaking was one thing, but what was up with them and smiling? It's all they do! "So, what grade are you in, anyway?"

Oh, so he was trying to make conversation. If he noticed there was something different about Marco, he didn't mention it. Besides, Marco reminded himself, Dylan thought he was cute.

"I'm in tenth," he said, smiling as well, "The same as your sister."

"Righhht," said Dylan, holding out the word. "I'm a senior."

"Oh, I see…"said Marco. "So, you're in your last year?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," said Dylan. Marco could hear his voice becoming farther away, so he assumed he was moving. "Your house is…really nice," Dylan commented.

"Hmm," said Marco, wishing the boy would simply stop moving around so he could stop following him. "If you say so," he said, grabbing onto the couch.

"What? You don't like it?" asked Dylan, confused.

"That's…not…" Marco sighed, holding onto the wall, almost falling, but managing to keep himself in the air. "Dylan, could you please stop walking?" he didn't mean to sound rude, but he was quite frustrated.

"Sorry," he said immediately. "I tend to walk around a lot." 'Great' Marco thought to himself. 'He was talking with a walker'

"No, I'm sorry," Marco apologized. "It's just that…I didn't want to seem…weak by falling," Marco admitted, feeling weak just by saying it.

"Why?" Dylan asked, confused. "I don't get it."

Marco looked down at his feet, willing his eyes to just see. Why couldn't he just see them? The most frustrating thing was that he could hold his eyes open just like anyone else and stare, but nothing would come out of it. He wanted to freaking see Dylan! Was that too much to ask? He just wanted to see him for just a moment.

"Just do me a favor. Can you tell me what you look like?" he pleaded, reaching his arm out to touch Dylan's chest.

Dylan felt quite awkward. "You want me to explain the way I look?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because I want to know," Marco whispered. "Please, I'm just curious."

"This is a little weird, Marco," Dylan laughed, becoming a bit nervous. He didn't understand.

"Fine, whatever. Don't. Just go, then," Marco said, ignoring how hurt he was that his attempts to see Dylan weren't helping, and Dylan didn't seem to get how much he just wanted to know.

"Marco, I'm sorry," said Dylan, not wanting to have Marco disliking him after knowing him for barely ten minutes. "You can't see me?"

"Just get out!" yelled Marco, frustrated. "Really, it doesn't matter. Thank you for bringing me my notebook. It was sweet of you," he didn't want to get upset over something that probably seemed like nothing to Dylan.

"No, I'll explain," said Dylan, "if you still want, that is."

"Yes," Marco sighed, feeling ashamed for trying to kick him out already.

"Well, this is so weird. I'm a blond…(male blonde, female blonde. I just learned this! Lol.) I have blue-green eyes. My aunt constantly tells me I look like my sister."

"I don't know what she looks like, either." 'Damn,' Marco inwardly cursed. How could he have been so stupid? Dylan could have lost it was some stupid thing Marco wanted from him, but now he'd figure out…Marco must be blind. Truthfully, Marco was sure Paige was going to tell him, anyhow, but it was still nice to know he had some time to seem like a strong, normal boy. Now, Dylan knew he needed…help.

"I see," said Dylan. Dylan sighed. "Listen, I feel like an idiot for asking you this, but are you blind?"

Marco laughed. "You have to ask?" He'd give up the act. At least, if he fell, Dylan would understand. He still wished, though, that Dylan didn't have to know he was…_impaired. _

"Well, now I know," said Dylan, feeling quite stupid. "I do recall you were looking quite stunned after I hit you in the hallway," he laughed.

"Oh, that had nothing to do with the blindness," Marco fell back into his teasing personality. "I was just overcome with your incredible weight. You, by the way, almost crushed me."

"Think you're funny, huh?" asked Dylan, laughing. "Well, I could make a few comments on you too, but I won't."

"And why is that?" asked Marco, smiling.

"I'm quite the gentleman, of course," he laughed, taking a seat on the couch.

"Of course," Marco agreed. "I'm going to walk over to sit on the couch, okay? Don't help me."

Dylan nodded, then, remembering Marco couldn't hear him, he muttered, "Sure."

Marco closed his eyes tightly, praying he wouldn't fall in front of this boy. He had no idea what he really thought of him, but he was hoping not to make the impression any worse than it may have already been.

It made him angry that there was nothing to hold onto since he was in the middle of the room. He knew he was getting closer because his leg had touched the coffee table. Just a few more steps and…the couch! He sat down, realizing he was in close proximity to Dylan, and was quite proud of himself. He hadn't crashed once when there was nothing he could even grab.

"Were you born blind?" Dylan asked. He couldn't help but wonder.

Marco knew Dylan didn't want to bring up bad memories for him because he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Marco didn't want to talk about this and the boy seemed too dense to get that.

"No, I wasn't. That's why I'm still getting used to it," he answered, with a tone that hopefully explained to close the subject.

"Yeah, you don't want to tell me what happened, I guess?" asked Dylan.

Marco shook his head. "I really don't. So, you were telling me how you look…"

"Uh, well, I told you my hair color and eye color. What else do you want to know?" asked Dylan, moving closer, as though he was afraid Marco's blindness made it harder for him to hear, or maybe just because he wanted to be closer. Who knows what Dylan's intentions were?

"Your height, maybe. It's all good to know for a blind person," said Marco, leaning his head onto the back of the couch.

Dylan followed his lead, too leaning back. "Well, I'm taller than you I'll tell you that, shortie," Dylan pushed him lightly.

"Hey!" exclaimed Marco. "What happened to you being a gentleman?" he laughed. "I knew it was a lie."

"No, I take it back!" he laughed as well.

"Mhmm," Marco scowled. "I know I'm short. Why must you remind me?"

"I was just kidding," said Dylan. "In fact, you're taller than me!"

"You're lying."

"Well," Dylan said, smirking, "you may never know."

The sad part of that was it was true. No matter what people said about the way they looked, he'd pretty much have to take their word for it.

"Wow. I told my mom I was dropping off a notebook and now, look at me! I really have to get going, Marco," Dylan grabbed his backpack from the floor, throwing it over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Marco."

"You have been here a while," he laughed, deciding it'd be pointless for him to get up.

"Well, you're fun to talk to," Dylan replied, walking to the door. "Bye, Marco."

"Bye, Dylan."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!


	5. Day Two

Overall, Marco's first day of school had really not been so bad. Well, it could have been worse, and he'd even met a friend: Ellie. He'd like to call Dylan his friend, but he wasn't sure if they were going to see each other again, despite the fact that Dylan had said they would. Ellie didn't like Paige, so maybe he wasn't supposed to either. Maybe he wouldn't see Paige and; therefore, wouldn't see her brother. He seemed…nice. Marco hoped they'd see each other again.

Marco woke up at the same time, but without his mother's coaxing. School would never be considered fun, but at least he wasn't dreading it anymore.

"Hey, ma," he said, smiling as he slowly, but surely, made his way into the kitchen where he knew she would be.

She didn't smile back. "Before you go to school, your father called for you last night when you were asleep. You might want to return the call."

"Oh," said Marco, surprised. "Do I have time?" he asked.

"For a quick call, sure," she answered, opening her magazine again. Marco was getting better at telling what, exactly, people were doing based on the noises he heard.

Marco took out his cell phone, deciding it would be better to call his father outside. He knew his parents didn't get along, and he thought it would be nice for her not to have to hear their conversation, even though it was probably just to ask him how school was.

His father picked up on the third ring, probably still sleeping. "Hello," he said in a tired voice.

"Dad?" he said, unsure of how to speak to a man who hadn't had any contact with him since the move.

"Marco," his father instantly perked up. "Son, how've you been?" he asked.

"I'm sorry to call you so early…if I woke you up. It's just I have to go to school," said Marco, breathing heavily. He did miss his father.

"Nonsense, Marco. I was already awake," though he knew it was a lie, it made him happier believing it. "So, how is school?"

"It's okay, I guess. I met…some people. I met a girl," he thought of giving him more information about the other friends he'd met, but decided it wasn't important. His father probably didn't care too much anyway. He was just making conversation. It was just like when one said, 'nice weather we're having'. No one cares about the weather.

"Good, I'm glad you're happy," said Mr. Del Rossi. Marco detected just a hint of resentment. He wanted Marco to be happy in Italy. Marco had the urge to explain how much happier he was in Italy, and that if his father came to get him, he'd gladly go back, but in the end, decided that wouldn't be the greatest plan.

"Yeah, I am," he replied, sighing. "I miss you, Pa…"

"Yeah," said his father. It honestly wouldn't be that hard to just say, 'I miss you too.' Marco knew his dad wasn't the greatest at expressing his emotions, so he didn't dwell on it.

"Yeah," Marco repeated, tapping his leg as he tried to find something to say. "Well, how is everything, you know, by you?"

"Oh," Mr. Del Rossi was brought back to the conversation, "everything's good. We're doing--"

"We?" Marco asked, confused. "Who's 'we'?"

"Well, Giulio is staying with me until further notice. I thought your mother told you…"

"No, she didn't," Marco said, annoyed. Why would she keep that from him? Was Giulio in his room? Did he have his stuff? Okay, so he took most of his stuff with him to Canada, but still the principle was there. Giulio could not touch his stuff. He tried not to let on how upset he was.

"Is it just Giulio, or are Aunt Rita and Uncle Adamo (A/N: lol, I couldn't help it) staying with you as well?" Marco asked, putting his hand on his right temple, hoping it would decrease the headache he was about to get.

"They're all here," said his father. Marco couldn't detect how he was feeling based on his voice. "I'm sure you understand. Because of the situation, it's--"

"I know, dad, but they had no where else to…it's fine," Marco promised himself he wouldn't get upset. He wasn't even there anymore, so there was no reason to freak out.

"Well, I really have to get to school soon. The woman who sort of helps me out is going to be here in a little bit," Marco said, biting his lip. He reminded himself that there was nothing to be upset over. Nothing.

"Have a good day, Marco."

"Love you, Pa," said Marco, waiting for a response. He vowed that unless he heard, 'I love you too, Marco', he would call back until he did.

"You too," said his father, hanging up.

Marco shrugged. "It was close enough," he whispered, as though he had to defend himself against…well, against himself.

He stood up, grabbing the handle so he could lead himself back into the house, but he stopped, as he heard a car come into the driveway.

He opened the door just a smidge to call out to his mother that he was leaving, and he walked down the driveway. Cathy didn't even get out of the car.

Marco felt around in the air (always feeling like a lunatic) until he finally reached the handle on the door. He smiled in relief. Five seconds.

"Getting better, hmm?" said Cathy, turning off the radio.

"Glad you noticed," said Marco, leaning back in the comfortable chair once again.

"Something wrong?" asked Cathy, sounding concerned. "You don't seem too…I don't know, pleased."

"I just had a conversation with my dad," he sighed. Cathy started the car. Marco thought she'd forgotten completely about the conversation.

"It didn't go well, I take it?"

"Well," Marco didn't know how to explain to someone who didn't know his family how much that conversation hurt him. "He just bothers me."

"Is the divorce hitting you hard?" she asked. "Unfortunately, it's a common thing these days."

Marco nodded. "What's worse is everyone always says that those who are children of divorcees, end up getting divorced. Of course, I don't want to believe it, but it does slightly scare me. I don't," he hesitated, "want to end up like my parents."

"Marco," said Cathy, pulling into the school parking lot, "you choose your life: not your parents. Now, let me get you inside. Do you have someone to help you to every class?"

Marco nodded. He'd already worked that out with Ellie. The only period she couldn't help him was between fourth and fifth because she didn't have the same class, but she assured him that Craig, (who he had yet to meet) would be there to help him to math.

"Alright," said Cathy, clapping her hands together happily. "Let's get this show on the road, then! Oh, and, by the way, I'm working out with some of your teachers the whole reading thing. I just wanted you to know I haven't forgotten about that obvious need."

"Thanks," mumbled Marco. "I hate that I'll have to basically start all over, but I'm glad I'm starting soon," he laughed.

"No problem," she draped her arm over his shoulder. "I'll just get you to homeroom now."

Surprisingly, Marco managed to make it from first period to sixth without any sort of a fall. Ellie helped him to his locker, and told him he could just wait for her there and she'd come back to get him once she was done at hers. He was actually happy with the way things were going. Not a fall once on day two. Of course, he had someone with him almost every second of the day, but still.

"Hey, Marco," said in the deep voice that Marco recognized as Dylan's. He smiled into his locker, throwing the last book in, and closing it.

"Hello, Dylan," he prayed he had the right person, even though he knew he did. However, it would be just his luck to say the wrong name.

"What's going on?" he asked. Thank God. It was Dylan.

"Nothing, really," answered Marco, pushing the hair out of his eyes. One thing good had actually come out of being blind. For some reason, he was more comfortable talking to guys when he couldn't see them. "I was just about to go to lunch."

"Oh…cool. Unfortunately, I have to go to Media Immersion. Fun," he laughed. "Well, I'm going to be late. Nice talking to you."

"Hey," said Ellie, coming to him right on time. She laughed. "He waved. Why did he wave?"

"At me? I don't know," he laughed as well. "Let's go eat. Come on."

Marco and Ellie walked into the cafeteria and she led them to her familiar table. "Do you want me to get you something, Marco?" she asked.

"Uh…no, I want to do it. It'll help get me used to how many steps to get there and all that. I count, you know? If you could help me get up there, though, that'd be nice."

As soon as Marco and Ellie were up on the line for lunch, the conversation began. "Dylan went over Marco's house yesterday after school to bring him a book or whatever," said Paige, "and he was talking about him all night."

Hazel laughed. "How cute. Your brother has got a crush, Paige."

Paige smiled, ecstatic. "I don't know whether to be excited or worried," she laughed.

"How about you be considerate," Spinner suggested, "enough to stop talking about with me here."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Spin, get over it, okay? My brother will never go out with you!"

Spinner looked mortified; everyone laughed. "Don't even _joke_ about things like that! It's disgusting!"

"Honey," she let her head fall easily onto his shoulder. "Please. How long have you known my brother and I?" she asked.

"Since I was in sixth grade," he answered, digging into his slice of pizza.

"Right." She rolled her eyes again, looking at the other members of the table. "You'd think he'd be used to the whole gay thing by now."

"Well, I feel sorry for Marco," said Spinner, his mouth full.

"Why?" asked Marco, finding his way to the table again, with a tray of food in his hand.

"Dylan likes you," Paige and Hazel said together without a care.

"Oh," said Marco, trying to appear unaffected. "He does?"

A/N: New Chapter. I'm like, posting so much this week! Lol. It'll make up for next week because I'll be super busy with school, and probably won't be able to post more than a chapter, but until Monday, you'll probably have quite a bit. :) Please review!


	6. That's how they normally help me

**A/N: Okay, I was looking at the schedule on the and it says that…the next episode of Degrassi won't be coming on for, like, many many weeks. Does anybody have any idea if that's true (in the US) and if so, why?**

"Well," said Paige, "he didn't really say he did, but it's kind of obvious," she flipped her hair over her shoulder, smiling brightly at Marco.

Marco shrugged, not really wanting to make it a conversation. "Does it bother you?" Hazel asked, simply wondering.

Once again, Marco shrugged, trying to get the attention to be focused on someone other than him. "I don't care," he answered.

"That's good," Paige said honestly, "because a lot of guys would be," she glared at Spinner, "grossed out."

Marco laughed. "I'm not like other guys."

Paige smiled. "Yes, I've noticed."

After the declaration at lunch, not much was said in the last few periods of the day about Paige's brother, and for that, Marco was glad. He didn't want to admit that he was interested in Dylan because he wasn't sure that he was. Maybe he just felt that way because he knew Dylan felt it about him. Actually, he didn't even know that. It was just what he'd been told, and Dylan had never _actually _said it. Sooo confusing, really.

Marco made his way with Ellie to his locker. No matter how accustomed he became to moving around blind, he'd never figure out a way to find his locker. It was in the middle of nowhere.

"Is Cathy coming to pick you up?" asked Ellie, before she left to go down the hallway to her own locker.

"Well, I thought we were going to walk home, so I told her not to bother. I could always call her…" he said

"I'm so sorry, but I told Mr. Armstrong I'd…Dylan, hey," she stopped mid-sentence to greet the new arriver.

"Hey," said Marco.

"Marco, don't call Cathy. Dylan, I have to stay after today. You want to walk home with Marco?" she asked.

"If he wants me to, sure," said Dylan, trying to keep his eager voice down, as though walking home with Marco was something that occurred for him everyday.

Marco sighed. He loved the thought of Dylan walking home with him and all, but he hated the fact that it felt more like charity. Was he doing it just because he needed help? Damn, why he did care so much?

"Yeah," said Marco, unable to think of another word. "I just need to finish here."

"Bye, Marco," said Ellie, taking off to their math teacher's room.

"Need help?" asked Dylan, leaning against the lockers next to his. Everyone who rode the bus had left already, having to get out quickly before the buses left. Since it took Marco a considerable amount of time to get out, Cathy or walking was his way home.

"No, thank you. I don't like help," he reminded Dylan. "Besides," he stood on his toes to reach the top of his locker, throwing his binder in, "it's really not that hard. I don't need to see to accomplish it."

"Okay, sorry. I didn't mean to, like, offend you," said Dylan, afraid he was screwing up his chances at even a friendship with the younger boy.

"You didn't," said Marco, finally closing the locker. "Let's go."

Marco walked close behind Dylan on his way out of the school. Apparently, he hadn't been kidding when he said he liked to move around and _fast._ Marco liked a challenge and everything, but this was way too much.

"Dylan, I can't…" said Marco, grabbing Dylan's arm as they were walking out of the school parking lot. "I'm sorry. I just don't even know where you are."

"Oh," said Dylan, scratching his head. "I'm sorry."

"Listen, there are some things I don't need help in, and some things I do. One is walking home," said Marco.

"Sure," Dylan laughed. "Okay, so when people 'help' you walk home, how exactly is this done?" he asked.

"Well….normally," said Marco, blushing, "we could do it a different way, but it's natural for people to just…hold my hand," he finished. He wasn't sure if he wanted Dylan to do it or not, (even though it was the easiest way) but it was almost too embarrassing asking. Besides, it made him feel like he was holding his parents' hands while crossing the streets.

"Oh," Dylan blinked, "well, if that's the way it's normally done, I guess that's what we have to do," he said. "Take my hand."

"How about," Marco suggested, "you take mine? That is the easier task," he laughed.

"Deal," said Dylan. Marco waited with his hand in the air, feeling Dylan take his right hand in his left, intertwining their fingers. Dylan waited for Marco to say he had a problem with it, to say 'you don't have to hold it like _that_,' because, even in his moment of pure bravery, he assumed Marco would say something of the sort, but he didn't. Dylan was glad for that. Smiling in triumph, he squeezed his hand gently as they walked down the street. Marco couldn't see the world around him, but for the first time in a while, he felt safe.

"Marco," said Dylan cautiously as they were nearing Marco's house.

"Hmm?" Marco replied, not really paying attention.

"Do you…I mean to say, are you…well…" Dylan sighed. "Never mind."

"What?" Marco asked, stopping. "What is it?" he was curious.

"Well, I just wanted to know what you thought of it here," Dylan shrugged. Marco frowned. Was that what he was really going to say?

"In Canada?" he sighed, really not interested in talking about that. "It's alright, I guess. I mean, I like the people I've met," he smiled at Dylan, "but it's not home."

Dylan nodded. "Well, we're here…" he said, as they walked up the driveway together.

"Dylan, you can stay if you want to," said Marco. All right. Maybe he was developing a tiny crush on Dylan too, but it was only because he felt safe around him. No one can really be superficial, though, when blind. He had to go by the way he felt around him, and he felt good.

"Oh, I don't know," said Dylan, sighing. "Maybe just for a bit," he laughed at how easily he'd given in.

Marco led Dylan inside (after his protests that he should lead someone into his own house, not the other way around) and down the hallway to his room.

"My mom is working late," said Marco, knowing Dylan was curious. "This is my room."

Dylan looked around, honestly disappointed after he'd assumed Marco's room would remind him of…well Marco. "It's…nice," he said, for lack of a better word.

Marco rolled his eyes. "I didn't pick how the room looks. God," he said, throwing his hands in the air, "I honestly don't even _know_ how it looks!"

"Calm down," he said, gently taking Marco's hand again. Marco did, indeed, calm down after his hand was in Dylan's. Dylan slowly pulled Marco down onto the bed next to him.

"Let's talk?" he suggested.

Marco nodded enthusiastically. "Talk is good. It doesn't require movement."

Dylan laughed. "It can occasionally. So…Marco, tell me about you," said Dylan.

What did he want to know? About him? About his family? His life? There was so much! What could he even say that was appropriate? Besides, if Marco were to talk about himself, he'd go on forever. Did Dylan really want that?

"There's not much to tell," said Marco. Okay, so it wasn't entirely truthful, but it was better to say, 'there's not much' than 'there's TOO much.' Right?

"I'm sure there is," said Dylan. "You seem like an interesting boy." Marco felt him brush the hair out of his eyes, which he didn't do anymore. It wasn't like the hair was blocking his vision or anything. Still…the touch made him tremble. So, he liked Dylan, didn't he? Why was that such a surprising feeling for him?

"Nope," said Marco. "Nothing interesting at all," he laughed. "What about you?" he asked.

"Don't change the subject! What do you like to do, I mean?"

"Well," Marco thought carefully, "read…which Cathy's working on…and I like music. That's about all I can think of at the moment, but there's definitely more. What about you?"

"Uh…can kind of sum it up in one word. Hockey. I like hockey," said Dylan.

"That's great," Marco smiled, remembering how much he used to dread the sports games his father would take him to, but he'd never seen hockey.

"I wish I could come see you play sometime…" he said, in a moment of honesty.

"Well, you could!" said Dylan, excited. Marco felt sorry to have to burst his bubble.

"Not really. I wouldn't be seeing anything," he said, surprised at how he was feeling sorry for someone other than himself. Lately, all he cared about was how bad he felt.

"Oh," said Dylan, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. It's easy to forget sometimes…that you're…you know…blind…it's not…well, it's because--"

Marco decided to save him before he made an even bigger idiot out of himself. "I understand why it's easy for you to forget," he replied, "because you're looking at me, not looking at what I see."

Dylan frowned. "It must be hard."

"It's getting easier," said Marco, sighing happily. Being with Dylan made him content.

A/N: Well, here we have a new chapter. I just got teeth pulled, so I can't eat or speak. Yay! Okay, so, I have no idea about whatever the hell they're doing on the N, but if somebody does, let me know. The N bothers me…so much.


	7. Ellie and me?

A/N: New Chapter. I'll try to get one or two more up this weekend, but I can't promise there will be a lot during the upcoming week. I go back to school with the promise of…lots and lots of work! Yay:( The weird thing is, (totally random, I know) I kind of liked RENT the first time I saw it, but it wasn't that amazing, but then I watched it again the other day, and I loved it so much. I'm weird like that, I guess. Anyway, on with the chapter.

"Ellie, I'm gay."

They were pretty strong words that Marco had let out of his mouth, and the girl on the phone merely laughed. Here he was, thinking Ellie would completely understand, at least, the best she could. She was laughing!

"Why is this funny to you?" he asked. Though he had expected her understanding, if she was angry with him, laughing wasn't the best way to show it. Did she not believe it?

"It's kind of obvious, Marco," she said bluntly.

"Oh," he breathed out, "am I obvious?" he asked.

"Well, I'm not one to judge just based on stereotypes, so I let my suspicions go until I noticed your obsession with Paige's older brother. I've only known you a few weeks, Marco, but I'm not that oblivious," said Ellie, calming down from her surprising laughter.

"I see," said Marco. "Well, is it obvious to him?" he asked.

Ellie laughed again. "Marco, that boy is blind…oops, sorry," she frowned, realizing what she had said. "What I meant to say, though, is that if you told him you liked him, he'd still probably be lost."

"He's not stupid," Marco defended Dylan's case.

"Sure," Ellie replied. "So, am I still invited over today? You know, my invitation hasn't been, like, revoked because I offended the your love, has it?"

"No," Marco laughed. "Alright, just come over now. My mom's just on her way home."

After the trouble of Marco's first week of school, things had died down, and he was treated mostly like any other student. He actually quite enjoyed things with his new friends (though he didn't forget to call his ones from back home every chance he could).

He had to see Cathy less frequently (he liked her all the same, but it was nice to be as independent as he could). She had even kept her word, finding him a teacher who would help him learn to read Braille. He'd had two lessons already. It was the most frustrating subject he'd ever had to learn, but there was no way he could quit, so he dealt with it.

Marco and Ellie had become closer than ever, spending almost everyday together, along with, every once in a while, the other 'friends from the table' as Marco called them. Marco had grown so close with Ellie that he insisted she tell him anything she ever needed to, so he figured he should do just the same, which is why he'd told her what he swore he wasn't going to.

"Hey," said Marco, opening the door for his friend after the doorbell sounded.

Ellie smiled at him, walking in. "Am I the first person you told?" she asked, not wasting a second.

"In Canada, yes," he answered. "Let's go to my room, okay?" Marco confidently walked to his room, without tripping or even having to slow down once. Ellie was definitely impressed.

Ellie chose to sit on the floor by his window, as always, leaning against the wall. "So, Dylan and I have never actually held a conversation. Is he like Paige?" she asked, unpleasant at the thought of Marco possibly dating a boy with similarities to Paige.

Marco shrugged, as he lay on his bed, facing Ellie. "I guess a little bit, but he's so great, El. The other day, he and I were…"

Ellie smiled at the way Marco's eyes shone brightly as he told his story. She listened carefully to all that he had to say, and decided that even if Dylan were exactly like Paige (in her eyes), she would deal with it if he could make Marco so happy.

"He does seem great," Ellie commented.

"Yeah," Marco sighed happily, "but the question is, does he feel the same way?" he asked.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual, Marco."

She'd known him for about a month, really, if her calculations were correct. (She had been counting since day one of the school year, ready for it to end). Though he'd accepted his new home after a while, she had truly never seen him smile this much, which made her think all the old smiles had been fake.

Truthfully, if one was going only by physical attraction, Dylan wasn't Ellie's type. However, she'd known a lot of girls who had fallen for his good looks. She just wasn't one of them, so she didn't really understand why he was so amazing. He was definitely attractive, she had to admit, but there were some people who fell for certain people, and that's just how it was. Ellie had to assume that he had to have a good personality to blow a blind boy off his feet. Dylan did like Marco, right? After all, that's what everyone was saying. They would be good together if they could just get a move on it.

"Ellie," said Marco, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Yeah?" she asked, confused at his sudden look of concern.

"If I went out with Dylan, I'd have to tell everyone. He's…out there, and I'm not. Don't you think some people…mainly Spinner, would have a problem with that?"

Ellie let out the breath she'd been holding once she saw how his face had fallen. "Marco," she walked over to the bed, taking his hand in hers, "it'll be hard."

That was all she could think of to say. She had actually thought of the same thing once or twice, knowing how Spinner felt about homosexuals, and being around him longer than Marco. If Marco had a problem coming out at all, it wouldn't be easy for him to handle Spinner; he was right to be nervous, but she didn't want him to have to give up what he wanted. Damn complications.

"I know, Ellie, but…I really like Dylan," he said softly.

"Well, how about we worry about Spinner when we have to? You and Dylan aren't even together yet," she laughed, "but you will be, so relax."

Marco smiled again, pushing away the fear for the moment. "Can I hear from you what Dylan looks like?" he asked.

"He's your typical jock, Marco. What do you want me to say?"

"That he's gorgeous," he replied, pulling her onto the bed next to him, "because I need to hear that."

Ellie allowed herself to be pulled up onto the comfortable bed. "He's cute, I guess, but you're better looking, hon," she said sweetly.

"Hon?" Marco asked, alarmed.

Ellie put her hands over her eyes in horror. "You've got me spending too much time with Paige!" she screamed, grabbing his pillow and hitting him with it. "What has she done to me?"

Marco laughed. "Back to the conversation, so you think I'm cute?" he asked, smirking.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Don't let it go to your head."

The end of week four in Degrassi. Day: Twenty-nine in Degrassi. Date: October third. Day: Tuesday. Event: (Hopefully) Marco tells Dylan how he feels. So, events can change, but this one shouldn't have to. After all, Marco wasn't really nervous at all. In fact, he'd convinced himself that he was excited.

He hadn't slept at all the night before, but he wasn't nervous. He got up four times during the night just to go over what he wanted to say, but he _wasn't_ nervous. He passed up the opportunity for a good breakfast because of the fear of throwing it all up, but he wasn't at all nervous. He got to school at normal time, thanks to Cathy, and even though Ellie said he looked scared as hell, he was _not_ afraid.

Ellie and Marco walked together to their first class, as always, with Marco's promise that he would do it. He was going to talk to Dylan, just not that early in the morning because _nobody _likes to be bothered at seven in the morning, even for a date. Anyway, that was his excuse at seven. Ellie accepted it.

However, Marco's excuse became a little fishy when it was lunchtime, Marco had seen Dylan a total of four times, and he had still not said anything. Not nervous at all, hmm?

Ellie took Marco's hand again, leading him to his locker right before they went to lunch. She told him she'd come get him after she was done with her locker. It was their daily routine. She'd drop him off, come to get him, and find he and Dylan were having a conversation. That boy must have been late to Media Immersion everyday if he continuously came to see him before that period.

Ellie saw Dylan approaching, as always. She gave him a stern look (forgetting that he couldn't see it, anyway) and walked away. If he didn't tell Dylan, she would have to, and she didn't want it to get to that point.

"Hey, Dylan," Marco said, smiling, and…dropping his book.

"Oh, let me help you--"

"No, I got it," Marco groaned, realizing he'd already screwed up in the first second of their conversation. If his sweating hands were any sign, maybe he was just a tiny bit nervous.

Being nervous upset him, which caused him to do embarrassing things, which then caused him to feel frustrated, losing his temper at those around him. He prayed with all his might to keep his temper down. Dylan was only trying to help.

"Okay, if you're sure," Dylan replied, pulling his hand away from the book. "So, how are things?" he asked, trying to ignore how put down Marco looked.

"Things are good," said Marco, closing his locker. "With you?"

"I'm great. Everything is just great," said Dylan. "So, I was thinking…" started Dylan, unsure of what, exactly, he had been thinking.

"Yes?" Marco looked up, surprised.

Dylan sighed. "I was just…well, I can't really be late to Media Immersions anymore, so…" Marco rolled his eyes.

"Are you serious?" he asked, remembering to keep his temper at a low. "Dylan…what…" but it was so hard when he had so much to say that wasn't coming out. The fact that he really felt that Dylan liked him and wouldn't say it was making it so much worse.

Dylan laughed. "No, I just don't know that you're…I don't…"

"What?" Marco asked, confused.

"Look, I understand that people have told you that I liked you," said Dylan, slowly, trying to let Marco take in his words. Was he saying it wasn't true? Had Ellie been wrong?

"Dylan--" Marco started, but was quite rudely interrupted.

"It's fine. I understand, Marco," said Dylan.

Marco looked confused. "Understand what? Dylan, I don't--"

"It's okay. I've been told by practically the entire student body about your relationship with Ellie, and I can't believe I didn't see it," he laughed, trying to hide just how disappointed he was.

"Ellie? Dylan, I don't…" Marco was too shocked to say anything. He and Ellie? Who had told Dylan he was going out with Ellie?

"Marco, it's fine," he said firmly. "I just don't want things to be weird and I still want to be friends, okay?"

"Dylan…" the bell rang, and Dylan turned around, ready to go to his next class,(late, as usual) ignoring Marco's attempt to get his attention.

"Dylan, please!" he wanted to chase after him, but there were so many people coming out of their classrooms and Marco, being in a state where he could see nothing, decided it'd be best to stay back.

Praying Dylan could hear him, but knowing that whether or not he could, everyone else in the hallway would, he yelled out, "Dylan, I want to go out with you!"

A/N: Hehe, there you go! Please review.


	8. Whatever the reason, they stared at us

A/N: Hopefully, I'll finish this today (Sunday). Anyways, I hope you enjoy it.

There are always those moments in movies where something so shocking and absurd, yet at the same time, amazing, is shouted out and time freezes. This is something that happens in movies and books all the time, but Marco had never known it to happen in real life, at least, not in his life. Sure enough, it happened.

When there was a moment of anger or nervousness he couldn't help but speak before he thought. He wondered why he had done something so stupid when he could have simply waited for a better time. Surely, if he and Dylan were to remain friends, he would have had another time to explain to him that he had no idea what Dylan had been talking about because he was interested in him, and not Ellie. But, no…his shocked side took over, causing him to make a fool of himself.

No one was longing to get to class on time after his proclamation. Every boy and girl stood still, waiting for Marco's next words, though with the way his throat was closing up, he wasn't sure there were going to be any more. For the moment, Marco didn't care what everyone else was thinking, (he would definitely later on) but only about whether or not Dylan had heard him. If he didn't, he would have heard it from someone else in the school, considering almost everyone at Degrassi would soon know.

Dylan was nearing the end of the hallway when he heard the words, about to turn and walk to Media Immersions, (a class he was definitely close to getting serious trouble in) but found his feet had stopped working. Was he imagining things? Would he turn around and find that, not only had he heard wrong, but Marco wasn't even there? He sighed. It was a chance he'd have to take.

Dylan's legs apparently started working again once they figured out he was going in the direction of Marco. Good sign. He felt like he was on display as all eyes stared at him. It wasn't everyday that there was any action such as this with two boys…at least, none they had ever seen. Some people looked disgusted; some looked mildly impressed, but no matter how they felt about it, no one looked away.

Dylan sort of felt like he was just walking through hell. It wasn't that he cared. No, of course he didn't care what anyone thought about him if he was about to get near the cute new Italian boy, but what bothered him was it was taking so long to get there!

Marco looked down at his feet, giving up on prospect of Dylan's hearing him. Little did he know that everyone else in the hallway saw it in quite a different way. As soon as he decided, Dylan didn't hear him or didn't care, he went to turn around, but he felt Dylan take his arm.

"Oh, no," said Dylan. "No way. You made me walk down the hallway of doom, now you're walking away?"

Marco smiled. "Well, Dylan, it's not like I could tell who was walking up to me. It could have been Mr. Raditch, for all I know."

"Sooo…" said Dylan, fully aware that everyone was watching them, "you want to go out with me, do you?" he raised an eyebrow.

Marco smiled, biting his lip gently, cursing at the fact that after everything that happened in the few moments before, he felt nervous. He found he was unable to say yes, so he simply nodded.

Dylan took his favorite position of all, leaning against Marco's locker, he spoke gently, "Well, this is tough…I might have to think about it for a few days…" he said, pretending to be thinking it over.

Marco shook his head, and rolled his eyes skyward. "That's nice. Embarrass me more, please?"

"I'm kidding. I'm sorry," he laughed. "I had to do it."

"Had to, of course," Marco grudgingly agreed. "So, what do you say?" he asked, going back to the important conversation.

"Definitely. Who's to say who actually asked whom out?"

"That was really confusing," said Marco. "Who cares who asked whom? We're going to do it, aren't we?"

"Yes!" said Dylan, smiling brightly, pulling himself off the locker, and looking down at his watch. "Uh…Marco, I really---"

"You've gotta go," he interrupted. "I'll talk to you later. So…Friday? We'll talk about it?"

Marco nodded. "Definitely. Friday sounds good."

Dylan nodded, walking back down the hallway. Marco sighed happily, falling back against the locker, he slid down to the ground, as he rested his head against the wall behind him.

He could still hear the breathing and feel the eyes of the many students still standing by. He rolled his eyes.

"Am I that interesting?" he asked, giving them a hint to stop staring. "You saw the show, now GO."

They all scurried away, seeing that Marco meant business, and hurrying to maybe make it ten minutes less than ten minutes late to their seventh period classes. Marco laughed slightly, too happy to care about any of the worries he knew should have been on his mind. Everything just seemed so…good. He didn't know the details yet, but he had _something _that was going to happen with Dylan, and that thought settled everything.

"Hey, you," said Ellie, her voice almost scaring him to death. "That was quite the performance."

"He thought we were going out!" Marco yelled, trying to make her see how strange it sounded. She took his hand, ready to lead him to the cafeteria again.

"Imagine that," she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I wonder what idiot told him."

"You told Dylan I was going out with Ellie?" Marco asked, shocked that Spinner would do such a thing.

"Well," said Spinner, trying to defend himself, "it wasn't all my fault. I was just the first one to talk about it," he shrugged, as though there was nothing wrong with it.

"Spinner," said Ellie, trying to calm herself before she said something she'd regret, "you can't just say things like that to people! You know Marco and I aren't like that."

"It kinda looks like you are," said Jimmy innocently.

"Well, we're not and, if we were, we'd tell you. Were you trying to ruin Ma—I mean…" she caught herself, receiving a look from Marco, "it was just a dumb thing to say," she finished lamely.

Spinner shrugged again, more interested in his food than anything else. Apparently, no one at the table (to Marco's delight) had heard yet about the hallway scene. They must have gotten to lunch early. Though Marco knew he'd find out eventually, he wanted him to find out in a much better way.

"Hey, guys," said Paige, taking her normal seat beside Spinner.

"Hey, Paige," they all chorused.

"I heard there was some big scene in the hallway pretty close to the cafeteria…does anyone know anything about this?" she asked, curious.

"No," said Marco quickly, "we don't. Do you?" he asked, praying she had no idea what had happened.

She shrugged. "Not really. Manny wants to tell me all about," she rolled her eyes. "I'll find out more later."

Marco wished so badly that he could communicate with Paige telepathically to tell her that she didn't need to find out because he'd tell her, and that the rest of the table didn't need to hear about it. He knew Paige wouldn't mean any harm by it if she told Spinner, and that she knew about his slight homophobia, but she didn't exactly care what he thought, and probably assumed Marco didn't care either. However, Paige didn't even know yet that he was gay, so…that might pose a problem.

"I'm sure that the scene was something incredibly stupid," said Marco, waiting desperately for the day to be over.

Marco found himself, as he always did at the end of the day, struggling to get his books inside the locker, wondering which he had to take home. He felt around for the thickest textbook, knowing that it was his math textbook. He sighed, and threw it in his bag, waiting for Ellie to come get him.

"You ready?" she asked, showing up right on time. Despite the new school, (not so new anymore) friends, and…hopefully, soon to be, (boyfriend?) or at least, Dylan, things were slowly falling back into routine. That was just the way he liked it.

"Yeah, sure," he threw his bag over his shoulder, hoping to catch a conversation with Dylan, though he was probably busy.

"So, list of things I have to do: Call Paige and make sure she's not so stupid to tell Spinner, hope to God that…he doesn't find out on his own…"

"Even though he probably will," said Ellie, pulling him away from a crack in the sidewalk.

"Then," he went on, "Talk to Dylan…about this date."

"So happy for you," said Ellie, smiling.

"And…yeah, that should be it," he laughed. "Oh…I also might have to do my homework at some point."

"That sounds fun. Want help?" she asked.

"Please," he begged. "We can do it together…it's easier to do it with you than Cathy. She gets so frustrated when reading the math problems."

They walked through the front door of his house, surprised to find his mother home, sitting at the table. She smiled up at both of them.

"Ma, we're just going to go to my room," he said, walking past her.

"As always," she laughed.

Marco sat down comfortably on the bed, smiling. "Aww, how cute," said Ellie. "You're in love!"

"I'm not in love," he argued. "I like him, but I'm not in love, El."

She nodded. "Sure."

Marco put his arm around her, happy that life hadn't completely turned to crap the way he feared it would.

"My phone," he said, getting up to grab it from its place on his desk. Ellie looked at him in awe.

"What?" he asked, grabbing his cell.

"It was vibrating under, like, ten pairs of pants on the other side of the room. I don't understand how you hear these things," she muttered, as she realized he was no longer listening, but deep in a conversation held in Italian.

He was pacing the floor, bumping into things every once in a while, as he had to concentrate deeply when he walked, and he wasn't really doing that. He looked extremely concerned.

"Non posso fare appena quello; ho scuola!" he said, sounding quite troubled. Ellie wondered what was going on.

Marco sighed. "Sono…" Ellie watched his face grow even more upset. "Ciao." He ended the call.

"What's wrong?" asked Ellie, watching him as he threw the phone at the wall angrily.

"Nothing," he put his head in his hands. "I have to go to Italy, okay?" he said. "For the week…apparently, my mother didn't tell me of this. Look, I'm not sure what day, exactly, I'll be back, but…definitely by next Monday."

"Um…alright," said Ellie, confused. "I assume this means you'll have to reschedule whatever it was you were planning on doing with loverboy."

"Don't remind me of that right now, please," he sighed. "Let me just call my dad…"

"That wasn't your dad?" she asked, more confused than ever.

"No, that was my aunt," he picked up the phone again, putting the back on again, considering it had broken off when it was thrown at the wall.

A/N: There we go…chapter. Please review!


	9. Permanent is always scary

A/N: Next Chapter. A lot of this is stuff from the past, but there will be some present day stuff going on in the chapter. Enjoy! **Oh! Another thing I want to point out is, when Marco speaks to his father on the phone, it is in English, but the rest of his relatives (obviously excluding his mother) don't speak any English, so in the flashbacks, it is written in English for your understanding, but they aren't speaking English. Capite? Passare…**

"—and it's always better to bring more than you need," said Mrs. Del Rossi, feeling worried.

"Ma," Marco rolled his eyes, "it's not as though I've never been away before. Besides, a month ago, I still lived there. I'll be fine." He squeezed the last shirt into his suitcase before zipping it up.

She sat down on the bed next to him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready for this, Marco?" she asked.

"No," he replied honestly, "but I have to. I just…wish it wasn't so soon."

"I wish that," she paused, struggling to find the right words, "this never happened to you."

Marco laughed. "Well, obviously. When's my flight?" he asked, desperate for a subject change.

"Early…5:00. I'll have you up way before then, though; you know the drill."

Marco sighed, falling back down on the sheets. "Well, then I'd better get to sleep."

"Good-night," said his mother, kissing his forehead, "and good luck."

Marco closed his blinds, annoyed that it was still light out. It was hard to force himself to sleep at the early hour of seven.

How did everything in his family get so bad? Marco liked to think that it was a recent thing, but he did remember vaguely his mother crying herself to sleep every once in a while when he was little. Maybe she was happier with their new life, but it wasn't as though the problems with the rest of the family disappeared. They were just farther away.

So, he admitted to himself, his parents had always had their fair share of problems, but he had definitely always gotten along with his cousins. They'd been more or less like his best friends (even before school). The ironic part was that Giulio had had been the closest with him out of any. He told Marco his secrets and, in return, Marco told him his. In fact, Marco was the first person Giulio had told about his drug problem. He trusted Marco with all his heart, and Marco wouldn't break that trust for all the money in the world.

Since Giulio had given Marco his trust with such a secret, he felt he needed to return the favor by telling him something personal of his one.

"Alcohol and drugs can all be solved in rehab," Giulio argued, "but you being a faggot is ever-lasting."

That marked the end of their solid relationship. Unlike a broken friendship, cousins _had _to spend as much time together as their family required. Surprisingly, Giulio tried to act as though nothing was wrong, possibly figuring that it would just cause a lot of family fighting. For whatever the reason, he kept his mouth shut, and Marco was thankful.

Anyway, the family was fooled. Not one aunt, uncle, cousin, parent, or grandparent ever questioned their forced polite attitudes toward each other. Everything was (though upsetting for Marco with his loss) normal…until May 23rd at approximately two-forty two p.m. when Marco was "outed". It was only fair that everyone knew the truth about their favorite child, right?

It was his father's birthday, so as per tradition, there was a big party in the Del Rossi household with the whole family Marco, Giulio, and Sabrina (another cousin of Marco's) were all sitting down on the deck when Giulio decided there was an announcement that had to be made.

"_Giulio, what are you doing?" Marco asked, paranoid. It couldn't be good._

"_What you should have done already," he said, an angry glint in his eye, showing for the first time in front of everyone that their relationship was not okay. "After all, it is your father's birthday. Don't you want to let the world know?" he asked._

"_Not really," he gritted his teeth, thinking he'd be happy if he just fell dead at that moment._

_Giulio simply laughed at Marco's expression. "Marco's gay."_

Marco couldn't believe it when Giulio had actually done it. He always brushed it off as just a bluff to rile him up, partly because he didn't believe his cousin would throw away eleven years of friendship. (Marco was born three years later than his cousin, so they'd been together since his birth.) Apparently, he could. He hoped they'd work things out, but after that day, things only got worse.

Besides Giulio's betrayal, what upset Marco most was the staring faces of his relatives. In that moment, he was seriously trying to picture his life without each and every one of them. His future didn't look too promising through that angle. Oddly, many of them turned out to be supportive. They wished he was straight, but they were supportive. The only exceptions were his father and his grandmother who, in time, accepted it. However, acceptance in their eyes equals just a little bit above denial.

Marco pushed his head deeper into his pillow, trying to block out all of the ill thoughts and just sleep. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be worker.

"_So, have you done anything with a guy?" Giulio asked, smirking as he moved in closer to him._

"_Your mother told you to pick me up, not interview me," said Marco, not in the mood for his crap any longer._

"_Marco," Giulio rolled his eyes, "I don't want to hurt you…"_

"_Right…so, what, exactly did you want when you ripped the closet door off?" he asked, not looking forward to the rest of the ride with his cousin._

_Giulio simply laughed, deciding to remain silent._

_They pulled into the driveway, and Marco planned on it being the last moment he had to spend with him until their next family party. (His parents had obviously found out about the tension between the two; therefore, they scheduled get-togethers less frequently.)_

_However, he was surprised when Giulio parked the car. Marco looked at him with questioning eyes. Giulio just shrugged in reply, following him up to the doorway._

"_And who said you're coming in?" Marco asked, as he fumbled with his keys._

"_Maybe," said Giulio, "I want to visit your parents."_

"_Well, you're out of luck since they're at work. You knew that, idiot, or else they'd have picked me up."_

"_Good point," said Giulio, following him in anyway. Marco wanted him to leave, but decided if he asked him to, he'd stay longer to bother him._

_Marco walked into his room, his cousin at his heels (slightly unnerving him) the entire way there. He removed his shoes and backpack, and took his seat on his desk chair. _

"_What do you want?" Marco asked, watching as Giulio sat there, having an inner debate with himself. He looked high and, Marco figured, he most likely was. Though, he figured he'd have noticed earlier on…_

_That was something that hurt him quite a bit. Marco had never told a soul about his problem, (even though their family had to consist of a bunch of oblivious people to not figure it out) but Giulio still hated him. He still lived to do spiteful things. He still hurt him. Marco didn't understand him at all._

Marco didn't remember if he and Giulio had talked or not. In fact, he truthfully didn't remember a thing from that afternoon because he remembered everything up until the point of Giulio coming into his house to waking up three days later in a hospital bed with his mother crying in the chair next to him. He didn't know where his father was, but his mother assured him that he just simply didn't have the time to visit, and that he would have if the situation was different. The doctors so kindly let him know that he'd probably never remember the night and, for that, he was supposed to feel 'happy'.

There's always that one moment in one's life when the person says to himself (or herself) that there will be never be another more painful memory than this, but then eventually there comes another one…and you forget how bad the old one felt because the new one is oh-so much worse. In all the horrible moments in Marco's life, he tried to think 'it could be worse', but when he found out he was blind, he really felt that moment would go down in history. Nothing could top that.

"_You should sleep. It's late. Are you feeling okay?" his mother asked, her worrying side showing more than any other time he'd remembered_

"_I'm fine. It's just…it's so dark," Marco laughed, leaning his head to one side._

_His mother ignored his comment. "You feel okay, though?" she asked._

"_Ma, I'm fine. I'm fine enough for you to stop worrying, and I know you all want me to sleep, but could we please turn the lights on for just a moment, so I can at least say good-night," he laughed again. Whenever he was sick, his mother would close the blinds and forbid any lights from entering the room. _

"_Marco," his mother took a deep breath, trying to hold her tears back, "the lights **are** on."_

Permanent is always a difficult word to accept. When someone is to be wed, they are always nervous because they know, it's no longer an end-it-whenever-you-want relationship. It's permanent. (Of course, there is the case of divorce, but this is something that is supposed to be forever.)

Death is the scariest example because that is _forever._ (A/N: Personally, it scares me sometimes, so I just…yeah lol.) After it's happened, there's no turning back, and no one knows what's going to happen until it happens.

The point is, no one can truthfully say that the words 'forever' and 'permanent' don't scare them a little, even if it's something they want to last forever. So, when Marco heard that he was blind, it wasn't temporary; it was forever, and he wanted to die. Honestly.

Sleep! Why wouldn't sleep just come? Marco pounded his head against the pillow, quickly realizing that was doing no good, and just thought about Dylan to help him fall asleep. Actually, it worked.

"It's too early," said Marco, falling asleep in the passenger seat of his mother's car. She gently nudged him.

"I know," she replied.

"I want to go home," he said, playing with his hands subconsciously. "I wish I didn't have to do this."

"Marco, you're the one who decided--" she argued, trying to stay awake as she drove.

"I know," he interrupted, "but I was angry that day. I didn't know I'd actually go through with it." Mrs. Del Rossi, though scared for her son, knew better than to let him quit. He would regret it and, he was just speaking out of nervousness.

"You're going to do it, Marco. Come on," she parked the car, walked around to the other side, taking his hand, they walked together into the building.

"Maybe I should go with you…I could always buy clothes when we get there and--"

"Ma!" he interrupted. "I've been on planes plenty of times by myself. You're just saying this because I'm blind, but I can do it. Dad said he's going to pick me up at the airport. He will be there."

His mother rolled her eyes. "Your father says a lot of things."

"Karina is going to come with him," he said, not interested in a rant about his father. "She's quite excited to see me, despite the not-so-good situation."

Mrs. Del Rossi looked reluctant, but finally leaned in to hug him. "I love you."

"Love you too. I'm going to be late. Take me to the plane," he laughed. "There's no way I can even attempt to find it."

A/N: Please review :)


	10. Love

**A/N: Okay, so I warned you that this chapter was going to take a little while. It was…four or five days since my last update, I believe. Slightly unusual for me. I'm sorry, but I was extremely busy. The important thing to understand is that after this chapter is when the major Darco action begins. It was slightly hard for me to write this chapter because I was debating on which way to go with it. Anyway, this chapter is to mostly take care of everything that needed to be settled back in Marco's home. Oh, and I saw it fitting to say that he lived in Milan. I'm sorry, but it just seemed like a very Del Rossi-ish place to me.**

"Marco!" Karina exclaimed, engulfing him in a hug as soon as she met up with her best friend. "I miss you!"

"Karina," he laughed, hoping to get a second of air.

"Sorry," said Karina, finally letting him go. "So, how is life in the English-speaking world?" she asked.

"Good, I guess," he shrugged. "Where's my dad?"

"He's in the car."

Marco and Karina made their way to the exit with Marco holding her hand tightly in his for two reasons. One: He was terrified in the swarm of people that were constantly pushing past him. He was so nervous of getting lost. Two: After a nine-hour flight, he was basically falling off his feet.

They found his car, said hello to his father, and jumped into the backseat. "Miss me, dad?" Marco asked, smiling. He may have been dreadfully nervous, but no one had to know about it.

His father nodded, but didn't seem extremely enthusiastic. He was concentrating on his driving. That was Marco's excuse for it, anyway.

Marco sighed, but smiled again when he heard his phone ringing. "Mr. Popular, hmm?" asked Karina, laughing as he answered the phone. "You just got here and, already, you have a call."

"Hey, it's El. I'm just in the bathroom. I escaped for a moment to talk to you," she said.

Marco smiled. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Well, we have about a half hour left of school…it's about two. Why?" she asked. "Got a date?"

"Very funny. Watch," he leaned back against the seat as Karina looked at him curiously, "as soon as I go back to school, that'll be a rumor. Marco had a hot date in Italy. No, I just wanted to know because it's eight here."

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "Your whole day is, like, gone."

"Tell me about it," he rolled his eyes. "So…" he waited for her to catch on.

"So, what?" she smirked, knowing exactly what he was asking.

"Ellie!"

"Alright," she took pity on him, "I spoke to lover boy because you were too afraid to tell him yourself. He was so upset!"

"What did he say?" asked Marco, biting his lip.

"He said, 'Italy? He didn't…move back there! He would have told me…right?' I was so cruel to him. I told him you did," she said guiltily.

"Ellie Nash, you did _not!" _he said, appalled.

"I did, but I couldn't take it, and he didn't believe me anyway. I said you were going to be gone for more or less than a week," said Ellie.

"Good," he breathed out a sigh of relief. "So, he misses me?" he asked.

"Of course!" she said, finding it strange that he'd even have to ask. "He said he was going to call you when he had lunch, but I guess he didn't."

"Nope," said Marco. "I wouldn't have answered, anyway. I slept the whole flight. Listen, El, I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," said Ellie, hanging up the phone.

He was still amazed that Dylan was interested in him. It had been a day and the shock still hadn't worn off. Dylan was everything Marco could have ever wanted in a guy. Granted, he didn't know everything about him, but when they were (planning on) going out Friday, they could talk about that kind of stuff. The unfortunate thing was they had never really been alone together. There was one time, but that didn't really count because Dylan had to tell him stuff that any person with sight would already be aware of. Marco had to find out the basics before he could find out the personal information. He was working on it.

He may have had the date ripped away from him, but they could still plan another one. Besides, they hadn't really had specific plans anyway. It was just unfortunate that he had to be taken away so quickly. However, it was so much easier to accept the hardships that were about to arise when he knew Dylan was back in Canada waiting for him.

"So," said Karina, after a moment of silence, "who's 'he'?" she referred to the boy Marco had been chatting about over the phone.

Marco nodded his head, showing that his father was in the car, and might not want to hear about it. "He's just a guy," he whispered.

"Mhmm," she laughed. "I expect more when I see you…tomorrow. We are going to hang out tomorrow, yes?"

"Definitely," he nodded.

They arrived at Marco's old house, and Marco felt as though he had never left. Almost nothing had changed. Though, that might have simply been because Marco didn't see anything the day he left, and he didn't see anything when he walked through the door.

His first thought was to sit down on the couch, but then he heard breathing. It was getting scary how he could decipher who was sitting there simply by the way she breathed. However, that may not have been too amazing because he only had a choice of his uncle, cousin, or aunt. This particular person was definitely his aunt.

"Ciao, Aunt Rita," said Marco, being as polite as possible. There was no reason at all for her to be treated in a bad way by him. She was always good to him; she just happened to have a hateful son.

"Sweetheart!" she exclaimed loudly, rushing over to hug him. After her outburst, Marco heard the basement door slam. She bit her lip. "Don't you worry about that, Marco. Let me heat some dinner up for you, alright?"

Marco knew better than to argue because, either way, she was going to make him food, so he figured it would be best to just eat it and get it over with.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, Marco," said Karina, hugging him again. "Have a good dinner," she laughed. "It was nice to see you, Rita."

"You too," Rita replied, already halfway into the kitchen.

"What did you all eat?" Marco asked, following her into the kitchen, and sat down at the table.

"You know me! We ate plenty, honey. You're so," she poked him in the ribs, making him throw his arms around his stomach protectively, "skinny."

"Thanks," he rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be skinny than have someone tell me I look like a whale."

"We have six days, right?" she sighed, thinking it over. "I should be able to fatten you up by then."

From that moment until the end of the trip, Marco planned on finding out from her what, exactly, she put in every meal he ate.

"If you don't mind," said Marco, pushing the gnocchi (A/N: I had to put that in because it's, like, my second favorite food in the whole world.) around his plate, "I'd like to go to bed after I eat. I'm exhausted."

"I understand," she answered.

After he declared that he was done, he got up from the table cautiously, (wondering where in the hell his dad had gotten to) planning on going to his bedroom when he remembered something.

"Where's your son?" he asked, wondering how the thought had been out of his mind for almost the entire day.

She frowned. "He's been in the basement since the moment you arrived; he's sleeping there. He won't bother you."

"Your husband?" he asked. He didn't exactly get along too well with his uncle either.

"He's out," she said simply. Marco knew that was all the information he was going to get out of her.

He bid her a good-night and proceeded the walk to his room, ignoring her pleas for him to let her help him along. His aunt needed to realize that he didn't want her help.

As soon as he entered the room, he listened closely (ignoring the fact that he might have been paranoid) to make sure no other person was in there. When he was assured that there was definitely no one else, he closed the door, locked it, and locked every window. He then checked everything over. Twice. 

Marco picked up his cell phone, dialing Dylan's number. Surprisingly, Dylan picked up on the first ring. If Marco knew him well enough, Dylan was probably getting ready to call him.

"Marco," said Dylan, happy to hear from him.

"Yeah, its me," he replied, automatically smiling at the sound of Dylan's voice. He quickly fell down onto the bed (purposely, of course!). "I wish I were home."

"But…technically, you are," said Dylan.

Dylan did have a point. Wasn't it true that he had been begging to stay in Italy? Hadn't he complained that Canada would never be good enough for him? Hadn't he also said that he would never make a friend in Canada, not only to avoid betrayal, but also because he didn't want any? Had he not been so frustrated when he had to attend the new school?

Of course, he had been! So, why was it so easy for him to refer to Canada as 'home' and Italy as 'away'?

"So, how was school?" Marco asked, propping his head on his elbows.

"It was okay, I guess," he answered, not sounding too sure. "I was actually early to Media Immersions today! I thought you'd be proud of me."

Marco laughed. "I guess Mr. Simpson was happy I wasn't there."

"Quite the contrary," said Dylan. "He's glad I'm talking you rather than…umm…what was it," he thought a moment, "'some junkie'" he laughed.

"Well, so…why are you in Italy?" asked Dylan. "Home sick?"

"Not nearly," Marco rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not going to give you all details, but I have to do this trial thing," he sighed, "and I'm starting to rethink it."

"Oh…I see."

Apparently, Marco had more to say. "And the hardest thing is," he said, biting his lip, feeling as though he would start crying any moment, but refused to let Dylan even hear a breakdown, "I don't see the point in doing it. When I'm around him, I think…I'm far away in Italy…and he can't hurt me, but…it's like if I don't--"

"Wait, Marco," Dylan interrupted, "what are you talking about?" he asked, concerned.

"—don't do it," he went on, ignoring Dylan, "then I feel worthless. I feel like he's going to win like he _always _does. I feel this is the only way I can stop it." He took a deep breath. "So, I should do it, right?" he asked.

"Do _what?" _Dylan was beyond confused.

"The damn trial!" Marco yelled, angry at the stupidity of what he had done. Who could have been listening?

"Marco," said Dylan calmly, "will it make you feel better about whatever this is if you do the trial?" he asked.

"Maybe," said Marco.

"Then, do it," said Dylan firmly.

"Thank you," said Marco.

"For what?" Dylan asked, confused. "What did I do?"

"You didn't give me a choice," he smiled, "you just told me to do it. Sometimes, that's what I need."

"Oh," he said, surprised, "well, you're welcome."

"I don't feel so well," Marco admitted, "and I'm really tired, so you mind if we talk…day after tomorrow?" he asked.

"Sure," said Dylan. "Sleep well."

"Good-night."

Marco hung up his phone, still smiling, and for the first time in a while, he fell asleep as soon as his head his the pillows.

Marco woke up at around nine-thirty, glad to have finally gotten a full night of sleep, which he was extremely surprised at due to the fact that his cousin was directly below him during his whole conversation with Dylan and while he slept.

He cautiously got up from the bed, pleased that he still remembered the way around the house as though he had still lived there. He walked out into the hallway, smelling breakfast. Pancakes, most definitely.

Marco was so close to the kitchen when he tripped over something. He had to catch his breath, having had the wind knocked out of him from the almost fall.

"Damn shoe," he whispered.

"You sound like an old man," a stuck-up voice and laughter came from the table.

"Thanks," said Marco, rolling his eyes. "I bet it was your shoe," he accused.

"Aww, Marco, let's not be immature," said Giulio, patting the chair next to him.

"Yeah, I'm the immature one," said Marco, rolling his eyes again, choosing to sit at the counter, wanting to be as far away from his older cousin as possible.

"See, ma, he _always _starts it," said Giulio angrily.

"My god, you're starting it right now!" yelled Marco, not in the mood for him. (When was he ever?)

"I started this? You're the one who decided court was the--"

"Boys!" shouted Rita, having had enough of their arguing. She put a plate of pancakes in front of her son and one in front of her nephew.

"When you're done, Marco, we need to pick out clothes for you," said Rita.

Marco finished his pancakes quickly, and tossed the plate in the sink. He stood up, making sure to walk completely around the table, so there was no way Giulio could possibly trip him, and he followed his aunt into his bedroom.

"Let me see what you brought," she said, opening his suitcase.

"In the right zipper," Marco pointed, "is where all the choices for trial clothes are."

"I see," she said softly.

Marco listened to the tone in which she spoke and, for the first time, he realized how hard the situation must have been on her. Her own son was being put on trial.

"Do you not want me to do this, Aunt Rita?" he asked. Though he knew he had to go through with it either way, he wanted her opinion.

She shook her head. "I don't want this to happen, Marco, but I didn't want you to get hurt, but what you have to understand is…" she sat him down, putting her hands on his shoulders, "it's going to be hard to find proof on whether or not…Giulio…hurt you."

"Aunt Rita! I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but who the hell else could have done it to me?" he asked, trying to make her see reason.

"I know I can't fully remember the night, but that doesn't matter. I remember he was there and we were in there. We had the door closed. No one else could have done it," he said.

Rita sighed. "Yes, but…"

"There can't be any buts," Marco argued. "He did this to me, and I'm sorry, but I can't let him get away with this. Because of him, I will never ever see again."

She nodded, taking her hands off of his shoulders, and moving back to the clothing. "Yes," she said, not really meaning anything by the word. She pushed through all the clothes until she found what she liked.

A simple pair of beige slacks and a blue button-up dress shirt was her decision. "This is what you'll wear. I can't say good luck. I don't know…what else to say," she walked out the door and closed it behind her.

"This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done," Marco said to himself, picking up the clothes.

"The trial isn't until two!" he heard his father call from outside of the door, walking away as soon as he'd said what he had to.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

"I have never even been to court before," Marco fidgeted nervously in his chair.

"Relax," said his father, turning back to the lawyer. They were in a deep conversation. The lawyer kept muttering things about how 'crimes between families' were always the worst or something along those lines. He was just making him more nervous. Was this a good lawyer? Would he win? What, exactly, did he want to happen to his cousin if he won? He should have thought this through!

He convinced himself to relax, as his father had suggested. Everything would be fine. His aunt had conveniently decided not to show, nor his uncle, but that was expected. He found himself, for one single moment, feeling sorry for his cousin. Whatever the outcome of his trial was, it would ruin him completely. Not only could he get into serious trouble with the law, but…the fact that was a drug addict would definitely come out, and he'd probably be shunned from the family.

Damn shunning. Marco knew how that felt. So, on top of all that fear the boy probably had, his parents weren't even there for him. Honestly, where was all this sympathy coming from? It was just plain wrong. He couldn't feel sorry for the boy who had been responsible for ruining his life.

However, because of Giulio, his life had been completely changed for the better as well. One good thing he got was leaving his private school. He was able to go to a new school where people were way more accepting, barely strict at all, (compared to his old school anyway) and held people like…Dylan.

Giulio screwed up his life, but truthfully, he'd gained so much from it. Besides, Giulio screwed up his own life in the first place.

Maybe it was the fact that he felt sympathetic for Giulio, knowing that he could possibly go to prison. He was eighteen; he had too much to live for! Or maybe…it was the fact that he was scared of the trial. Maybe…he wanted to forgive.

Or maybe…it was the fact that he realized he'd never have met Dylan (big reason) if it hadn't been for the horrible bashing from his cousin. Or, it could have even been the fact that Marco felt he didn't have enough evidence. It could have also been the love he still held somewhere deep in his heart for his cousin. Whatever the reason, Marco made what could have been classified as an incredibly noble deed or the stupidest mistake of his fifteen year old life.

Marco walked back over to his father, tapped his shoulder, and said, "I want to drop everything. No charges. No trial. I don't want to do this."

Even without his eyesight, Marco could tell his father was staring in shock, his mouth hanging open unattractively.

"No charges?" he repeated. Marco shook his head. "No trial?" he asked. Marco shook his head again.

"No."

"Let me go talk to the judge…" his father was obviously very confused, but probably didn't care whatsoever about his decision.

"Cancelled?" asked Mrs. Del Rossi. Marco had just called her to tell her the news.

Marco sighed. "I felt it was best."

"I did say it was all your choice. I respect it, Marco, but you didn't just do this out of fear, did you? Because---"

"No," he interrupted strongly. "I did it because I felt it was right."

Marco could tell she was smiling. "Have fun on the rest of your trip. I love you," she said.

"I love you too." He was about to hang up the phone.

"And, Marco?" she spoke again. "I'm proud of you. I would have been proud if you fought, of course," she laughed, "but I know you did it out of love, and I don't just mean love for him. Even if you don't realize it, you wanted our family to stay together. You always have."

Marco felt so happy after what she had said. "I still haven't spoken to Giulio. At all. Well, once this morning about a shoe, but I left the court with dad and…he was still there."

"I have to go, Marco. Work, you know? It's much earlier here, you know?"

"Okay, bye." He hung up the phone without waiting for her reply, which she probably hadn't even given.

"Talk to Giulio," Marco said to himself, "or not." He sighed. "I'm thinking not…"

A knock on his door interrupted his conversation with himself. He was irritated. Couldn't people see that he didn't like getting up to answer the door?

"What?" he yelled, hoping the person could give him their information without needing to come inside.

"Marco, it's me," came the quiet reply of his cousin.

A/N: So, it may have taken a while, but it was pretty long. I hope you liked this chapter. Please review because I really want to know what you thought about it. Oh, and did the chapter name completely fool anyone? Lol


	11. He's Late Again

A/N: New chapter. Happy? Okay, so there's only a bit of Darco in this chapter, but I promise, starting next chapter, the real stuff starts with them:)

Marco lifted himself up from his bed, not sure he was ready for his cousin. He was actually slightly afraid of him, but he opened the door despite his unhappiness at the thought of having to do so.

"Marco," Giulio practically whispered, "I come in?" he asked. It was always odd when Giulio spoke English. He normally didn't like to even attempt it because he knew speaking it would prove Marco was much more skilled at it than him. That was something he never liked to admit.

Marco nodded. "Leave the door open," he told him.

Giulio sat down in his desk chair across from Marco's bed. "Why, in God's name," he was speaking Italian again (**figures) **"did you do that?" he asked.

"What?" asked Marco, taken aback. "Did you want to go to jail?"

"I didn't say that," said Giulio. "Why didn't you go through with it?" he asked, determined to get a good answer.

Marco shrugged. "Why does it matter? It's done with. I'm going out with Karina tomorrow, and then leaving the morning after."

"I thought you were staying the week," said Giulio, confused.

"My mom took pity on me," he rolled his eyes, "and got me an earlier flight. The stupid trial wasn't what I wanted!"

"But you wanted to do it in the first place!" Giulio argued.

Marco shrugged again. "Putting you in jail won't give me back my eyesight," he stated wisely.

Giulio sighed. "I suppose that's true."

"Besides," said Marco, not really wanting Giulio to think he'd actually been forgiven, "you're the only one who knows what happened that night. There wasn't much I could have said."

"That's true," he repeated, "but I'm sure you could have come up with something…"

Marco rolled his eyes. "You want to go to court? You want to go to jail? Ask someone to lock you up! Be my guest…jeez, why is this so important to you?" he asked, aggravated.

"I just wanna know…" he whined, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"Maybe because," said Marco, deciding not to tell him about the Dylan reason, "if you went to jail, you'd be angry with me, but if you stay here, you'll feel soooo guilty," he laughed. "I'm only looking out for myself."

"Of course," Giulio slightly chucked.

"I want you to know," said Marco, once again sitting down on his comfortable bed, "that I don't trust you. At all. I may never trust you again," he finished honestly.

"And I want _you _to know that I will never be okay talking about…your gay…thing," said Giulio. "I don't like it."

"Well, there's nothing either one of us can do to change our feelings, so I suggest you leave," said Marco, showing him the door.

Giulio sighed. "In case you wondered, I told my mom about the uh…my problems. I'm going into rehab," he said, standing up.

Marco raised an eyebrow. "You want a medal?" he asked sarcastically, though there was a slight smile on his lips.

"I like medals, yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, forgetting about Marco's request for him to leave the room.

"Giulio, is there something you specifically need?" he asked.

Giulio shook his head. "Then, aren't we done?" Giulio nodded, walking over to the door.

"Want me to close it behind me?" he asked.

"Please," said Marco.

After the door was shut, Marco put his head against the back wall behind his head. He kept reminding himself that he was almost done with this stupid trip. There was no way he was back going to back down and leave his second night in the country. He could handle it.

The next morning, he got up significantly later than the previous day, only walking into the kitchen at about ten-thirty.

His aunt caught him off guard when she leaned over and hugged him tightly. "I love you," she whispered in his ear. She quickly composed herself, leaning over the counter. "What would you like to eat?" she asked.

"Um…I'm not really hungry," Marco mumbled.

"Okay, I'll make eggs," she replied, going to the stove. Marco rolled his eyes, smiling.

"Of course," he said.

"Hey, ma," said Giulio, hugging her from behind.

"Eggs are in the process; have a seat," she ordered, directing him to a chair at the table. Marco wasn't ready to be brave, still deciding on a seat quite far away from his cousin.

As they waited for the eggs, Marco heard that incessant tapping noise, again, coming from his cousin. Giulio, as it was known, had a 'nerve' problem. When stressing situations came about, such as Marco's…well, everything about Marco, and the fact that he was about to launch into withdrawal. Marco had always failed to ask what he…took, exactly, but he realized he really didn't want to know. All he wanted was the tapping to stop; it drove him insane.

"Giulio!" he shouted, surprised even at his own outburst. "Please," he got much softer, "can you try to stop tapping?" he asked.

Giulio didn't get angry or apologize. He probably sat on his hands, as his mother often advised because as soon as the request was made, the tapping stopped.

"You will be spending time with Karina today?" Rita asked.

Marco nodded. "Yeah…I think I'm just going over to her house in a little bit," he picked at his eggs, hoping to gain an appetite. "Or maybe…" he smirked, taking two bites of his eggs to keep up appearances, "I'll just go now."

He grabbed his coat from the chair by the door, and ran out the door. He was going to avoid those eggs at all cost. Taking out his cell phone, Marco dialed Karina's number, asking her to come walk over to his house, and they'd go somewhere together. He would have gone to her house, but…well, he didn't, for obvious reasons.

She walked up the driveway and Marco met her halfway. "Let's go," he said quickly, knowing if his aunt knew he was still on the property, more breakfast would be shoved down his throat.

"So," said Karina, as they sat down on a bench. The two were in a park that they had often visited together before Marco's traumatic incident. It was sad to sit there, remembering what it had looked like, and how he had loved looking at the lake; it wasn't the same anymore. Nothing was.

"So," he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Tell me about this boy," she nudged him in the stomach, smiling.

"Ah…Dylan?" said Marco. "He is the most amazing boy I've ever met."

"Aww," she said, laughing, "how cute! Tell me all about him."

"Well, he's, like, this big time hockey star…and I've been told he's blond with blue eyes," he said dreamily, "but he is so amazing, Karina."

"He sounds it," she quickly agreed. "Will I ever meet Prince Charming?" she asked.

"You'll meet someone, Kay," he said, laughing.

"No! I meant, will I ever meet your boyfriend?" she asked.

"First of all, he's not exactly my boyfriend," he denied, not sure what he and Dylan were, "and second of all, of course you will!"

"You know what this reminds me of?" asked Karina, as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "When we had that little 'dating' thing?"

"I knew," said Marco, putting his head on his forehead, "that you were going to bring that back someday!"

"Hey! Of course, I'm going to haunt you with it!" she giggled slightly at the look on his face,

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he said, still uncomfortable with the idea of not loving being around her as much as he used to. Everything had changed…everything.

"Without seeing Maria and Christoforo? I don't think so! We'd better make the most of this day," she grabbed his head, pulling him up. Apparently, they were going to spend the day with his other friends.

"Let's just keep the Dylan part to ourselves around them, yes?" said Marco. Karina nodded enthusiastically. He was glad they didn't speak about his disability.

…………………………………………………………………………….

"Nine, dad…the flight is at nine!" he yelled, banging on his father's door the next morning, begging him to open up.

"Why you need for, hmm?" his father asked, still half-asleep. "Can't your aunt or uncle drive you?"

"Well, I'd ask Uncle Adamo, but he's never **here, **and you don't have to take me! Maybe I just want to say good-bye to you," he said, tired of his father's pushing him away. Sometimes he convinced himself it was about his sexuality, but deep inside, he knew it wasn't. His father had always been slightly…uncaring. Was that the word? He loved him, but didn't want to ever have to be responsible for him. Marco didn't want the divorce, and he definitely didn't want to admit that his mother had been right.

Marco sighed. "Oh, _all right," _said his father, not sounding too happy about having to get up.

Marco's mother was wrong. His father cared about him. His father wanted him to stay. He may have forgotten many important dates…just in the past year, but that didn't mean Marco didn't matter to him. His mother was wrong.

Mr. Del Rossi opened the door, hugging his son closely to him. "Have a good trip," he mumbled. He then closed the door behind him. Marco took a deep breath.

_That was it, _he thought to himself. Marco decided it didn't matter. He wouldn't get all upset, having to cry over it. He'd go home, and just worry about it at a different time.

"Let us drive you to the airport," said his aunt, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. Of course, she said 'us' because Giulio was going to tag along. In fact, he would have driven Marco himself, but Marco was still too afraid to be alone with him, besides his aunt (unlike his father) actually wanted to bid him a proper farewell.

When his aunt got behind the wheel of the car, a sudden thought came to his mind, which caused his stomach to lurch uncomfortably.

_Would he ever be able to drive? _

They arrived at the airport, walking him to the spot where they were going to let him off.

"I'm sorry that…this visit wasn't wanted from you," said his aunt, inconspicuously looking down at her son, "but I was very happy to see you."

Marco nodded. "You must come visit Canada sometime," he said, though he knew it would probably never happen.

"If Uncle Adamo comes back from wherever the hell he was," he gave his aunt an apologetic look for the curse, "tell him I said hello."

"I love you!" she said softly, hugging him tightly. "You will be okay?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'll be fine, but I'm not sure if I'll ever get the air back into my lungs after that hug," he teased.

Giulio felt uncomfortable. What was he supposed to do or say in the situation? Was he supposed to act as though he wasn't there, which was what he was doing? Finally, he moved closer to him, and patted his shoulder. That was good enough, right?

"You are such an ass," said Marco, making Giulio pull his arm back sharply. "You can't even give your baby cousin a hug?" he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Even if I were one for the odd cousin on cousin relationship, you're really not my type; don't worry."

Giulio rolled his eyes. "I'm the ass?" he shot back, taking a look at his mother. He sighed, leaned forward, and gave Marco the shortest hug he'd ever given.

"Bye," he said softly.

"Bye," Marco repeated.

It may not have been much at all. In fact, many people would have frowned upon the pathetic good-bye they had given each other, but to them it was enough. Marco was never going to trust him along again; that was for sure. Giulio wasn't…may never would, but might eventually…not…accept him for who he was, but no matter what, they knew they were related, and had to deal with that in the best way they could. There was love in both of them, somewhere really deep down.

Marco was glad to hug his mother when he got off the plane, and didn't know where the tears had come from, but before he knew it, he was practically in hysterics.

His mother didn't ask why he was crying. She simply held him close to her, gently rubbing his back, paying no attention to the stares they were being given. Marco pulled away from her after a moment, wiping furiously at his eyes.

"I think," he started, making sure he wouldn't break out in tears again, "that I was just overwhelmed," he said.

"Okay," his mother nodded, walking him out to the car. Not a word was spoken throughout the entire ride; Marco didn't know what to say. When they finally arrived home, Marco planned to go straight to his room, but stopped.

Marco turned around, closing his eyes tightly. "I hate to say it, ma…but you were right about dad. You always were."

"Oh, Marco," she sighed, "I didn't want to be. Go rest," she suggested.

He nodded furiously, planning to do just that.

"You're back!" Ellie exclaimed when he walked into the school that morning, Cathy by his side.

"This is where I leave you," she said, as always, kissing his cheek when she departed.

"So," said Ellie as they walked together to English, "much earlier than I expected."

"Yeah," he laughed. "I'm so glad to be home. I can't wait until lunch," he smiled.

"I know," she said, smirking. "You want to see lover boy. He'll be so happy to see you too." Marco smiled in return.

Marco knew that when one is excited, the day drags on, but really, was it _still _sixth period? He was hungry and he wanted to see Dylan! He couldn't even stare at the clock's passing second hand…well, he could stare, but he doubted it would do much good. He also felt as though he'd asked Ellie the time one too many times during that period, so when he bell finally rang, he was thankful not to have to tap her again.

"Here's your locker, Marco and…oh, look who it is," she smiled knowingly. "I'm gone!"

Marco began to unload his stuff, carefully throwing everything in. He sighed. The science textbook was every bit as thick as the English one. Which to take?

"Hey!" came the surprised voice of Dylan from his right side. Marco smiled automatically.

"Hey, Dyl," he said, still debating on the textbooks.

"Why did you come home so early?" he asked, quickly adding, "Not that I mind, of course."

Marco ignored his question, embarrassed that he was going to have to ask for help. "Dylan," he quieted himself, hoping no one else could hear him, "which one of these is my math textbook?"

Dylan pointed, shook his head at his own stupidity, and took Marco's small hand gently as he placed it firmly on the top of the right book.

"Thank you," he sighed.

"Marco, you know it's okay to admit weakness every once in a while, right?" Dylan felt that the more Marco kept trying to deny the weakness, the more of a weakness it seemed to become.

"Right," Marco laughed. "You sound like my mother."

"Forget it, then…" said Dylan. "You and me? Tonight? No Ellie or your mother or anything? Please?" So, it wasn't the greatest way to ask a question, considering he just threw in about four fragmented sentences, but it made Marco smile nonetheless.

"That sounds great," said Marco, forgetting about Dylan's call on his 'weakness'.

"Great!" Dylan said happily, as though he hadn't expected it. "I will…umm…" he cleared his throat. Nervous? Dylan Michalchuk…nervous? That word simply didn't fit in with his personality. What was wrong with him?

"Well, I…" It was Marco, of course. No other boy had brought out the odd 'nervous' emotion that was apparently in his body other than Marco. He wasn't just any boy.

"Yes?" Marco pressed on, obviously amused. Dylan felt himself immediately loosen up.

"Pick you up?" he asked, laughing.

"Sounds good," said Marco. "If you can manage that…wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Marco pushed him gently, teasing.

"Oh, I see we have a comedian, hmm?" asked Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm looking forward to tonight, Dylan. You can be sure of that," he smiled. "You know," he started, "the bell rang about…5 minutes ago."

"We have _not _been talking that long," Dylan denied, shaking his head. Marco shrugged.

"Whatever you say. Mr. Simpson will definitely know now that I'm back in town."

"Maybe there's another guy making me late to Media Immersions!" said Dylan, as Ellie approached. "You don't know."

"Oh, right…woe is me," said Marco, "there's someone else making you late to class. Besides, I don't even believe you," he crossed his arms playfully.

Dylan laughed. "Okay, okay, so you're too cute to pass up. Trust me, hon, no other guy is good enough…for me to be late to class for…but now that we're on the subject of lateness--"

"Get to class," Ellie ordered, trying to hide her smile.

A/N: So, I hope this chapter lived up to your standards. It was mostly an introduction to next chapter. There will be a lot of Darco! I'm excited lol. Please review.


	12. Date

A/N: Here's the chapter. I hope you enjoy it. :)

"Hey, Paige," said Marco, answering his phone. He tried to keep his nerves as low as possible. "What's up?"

"Rumor has it that you've got a date with my brother," said Paige, smiling.

"Who knows?" Marco asked quickly, fearing the whole school was going to be aware soon of his sexuality without his consent.

"Hazel, Jimmy…and I didn't tell Spinner, but it's not going to be a secret forever, Marco. That's just a warning," she said cautiously.

"Paige, I actually don't have the time or patience to deal with him right now. I have no idea what I'm going to wear!" he said, feeling as though he were about to lose his mind due to one night with Dylan Michalchuk.

Paige laughed. "Relax, hon. Dylan doesn't care about that stuff," she laughed. "My _brother!" _she said, more to herself than Marco.

Marco ignored her second comment, too distracted to care. "I know, but," he bit his lip, "I do. Besides, I won't even know how it looks on me!"

"Okay, I have to go, but you will be absolutely fine," she assured her friend. "And, don't worry; just be yourself."

"I am being myself!" he argued. "I'm worrying! That is what I do!" Though, he knew full well, she had already hung up. He sighed.

Marco hung up the phone, now forced to face his only choice. He was going to ask his own mother to pick out clothes for him.

Marco walked carefully into the living room still debating on whether or not talking to his mother was the best plan.

"Hey, ma," he said timidly, standing in front of his mother.

She looked up from the towels she had been folding. "Marco," she smiled. "Something the matter?" she asked.

"I don't know what to wear!" he told her, running his hand through his hair.

"What is wrong with what you're wearing," she raised an eyebrow, chuckling at his appalled expression.

"I don't even know what it looks like, for one thing! I am quite…specific about what to wear, but…I've never been…you know…" He had been trying to avoid that particular part of the conversation.

"I hate this feeling…that someone else has to tell me what to wear! How can I trust your…your…choice?" he asked.

His mother rolled her eyes. "I will tell you what I pick out. You worry too much. Now," she put her hands on his shoulders, leading him to the bedroom, "where are you going?" she asked.

Marco pushed open his bedroom door, taking a seat on his bed while his mother sorted through his drawers.

"I'm just…" he thought about the best way to go about answering the question.

"What about this nice black shirt?" she asked, obviously approving of it herself.

"Which black shirt?" he asked.

"This one," she laughed. "Oh…right, that does you quite a lot of good. Well, it's black, and I insist you wear it."

Marco shrugged. "I don't have any _bad _black shirts, I guess, but the question is, should I wear it on this…" he took a deep breath; now or never, "Date?"

"A date?" she asked, surprised. Marco, too, was surprised when he found himself in his mother's arms. "Really?"

"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, fearing he was blushing. "Dylan…"

She smiled. "He is nice boy?" she asked.

" 'Course," he replied, without a second thought."

"And these jeans," she held them up in the air, tilting her head to one sighed before nodding in approval. "This is what you'll wear."

"Thanks," he smiled. He tried to think of something else to say to his mother. After all, they'd both been through a lot, and he'd spent most of the time blaming her for the things his father had done. It seemed appropriate to thank her for getting over the fact that he wasn't straight, helping him through so many hard times, trying to put his life back together, being so happy about the date, and kindly helping to assist him with the clothing.

"Just…thanks," he said again. It was all he could really think of, but he knew she understood.

"When are you leaving?" Mrs. Del Rossi asked.

"Soon," said Marco.

It was about ten minutes after he'd gotten dressed when he heard Dylan's car pull up in the driveway. He didn't move for a moment, trying to go over his words in his head, making sure he wasn't going to say anything absolutely stupid. Though, he considered that it might be stupider if he simply refused to exit his bedroom.

"Marco, Dylan's here!" said his mother from outside his door. He couldn't hide anymore.

Marco got up from his bed, moving in the living room, Dylan standing at the door.

"Dylan," said Marco, pointing to Mrs. Del Rossi, "I'm sure you remember my mom."

"Hi, Mrs. Del Rossi," he greeted politely.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Deelan," she smiled. She looked to her son. "Be good, and have a good time."

Marco and Dylan smiled, slightly nervous, walking out to his car. Dylan watched concernedly as Marco felt around for the handle. Finally finding it, he sat down in the passenger's seat next to Dylan.

"What?" Marco asked, apparently feeling Dylan's eyes on him, causing tension.

"Nothing. I'm sorry," he turned away from him as he started the car, pulling out of the driveway.

Dylan drove down the block in silence, realizing that, most of the time, he forgot about Marco's blindness, which always seemed to cause him to accidentally bring it up, embarrassing Marco. For example, at school when Marco had asked about the two books, he didn't even _think _about why he couldn't tell the difference. Whenever he did remember, though, it was hard for him to restrain himself from offering help.

"So, I leave it up to you where we go," said Dylan after a few minutes of no speaking.

Marco looked at him, shocked. "You want me to choose? Wait, you don't know where you're going?" he laughed.

"Until you tell me, I'm just driving around," Dylan, too, laughed.

"Well…I don't care," he shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, there are certainly…some…things… You know what," he said, "I am kind of hungry."

"Okay," Dylan laughed, knowing he felt uncomfortable, and he wanted to change that. "Any preference?"

"Please, I'm the new guy in town. You know where to go."

"Well…" Dylan thought for a moment.

"Seriously, it doesn't matter to me."

"If you want to go to a place you'll probably like, I'd suggest The Dot, but…there's always the threat we'll run into Spinner. He does work there."

"Oh," said Marco. Was he willing to risk that? He didn't really want the date to turn out more humiliating than it was already going to be.

"You know what," said Dylan, noticing Marco's internal battle, "I've got an even better place," not wanting Marco to have to face the Spinner situation.

"So," said Dylan, swallowing a French fry, "how was your trip?"

Marco sighed. "Honestly? Terrible," he replied.

"I don't suppose you want to talk about it," said Dylan. Marco shook his head quickly.

"I mean, my family is irritating," he said simply.

Dylan nodded, laughing. "Isn't everyone's?" Marco smiled.

"Listen," Marco started, "by pointedly ignoring the 'blind' subject, it's making me think more about it," he laughed. "So, if you want to ask me something, please do it now."

By giving Dylan permission to ask him anything he wanted to, he was giving him complete trust. Since the incident, Marco had sort of avoided giving that particular feeling to anyone. He simply smiled, showing he meant it, and Dylan gave him a half-smile in return.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," said Marco surely, taking a sip of his water.

Marco expected him to ask, 'How did it happen?' That was one of the first things he'd asked after they met, but instead, he asked something else.

"If you could have your eye sight back," Dylan started, "just to be able to see one thing for one day…that you used to be able to, what would it be?"

"You said used to?" Marco asked. "Because, what I want to see, I've never ever seen," he smiled.

"Okay," Dylan rolled his eyes, "then what?"

"Right now," Marco said, being honest, "I'd love to be able to see you."

"You know, it's funny how things happen," said Marco. "If I didn't get hurt, I wouldn't be in Canada. If I could see you, we wouldn't have crashed. If you hadn't ended up with my book, you wouldn't have come to my house; we wouldn't be here."

Dylan considered all the facts Marco had just given him carefully. He put his right hand on the table, reaching for the last French fry in the dish, thinking.

"You believe in fate?" he finally asked, laughing slightly. However, he didn't want an answer. "I wish you _could _see me," he admitted, frowning.

Marco nodded. "Well, keep dreaming," but he didn't sound devastated anymore.

Obviously, he was devastated in some way that he'd never see Dylan, but maybe it _was _fate. Everything happens for a reason? Whatever. He didn't know if he believed it or not, but all he knew was the blindness didn't matter much if Dylan was sitting at the table with him.

If everything happens for a reason, (which was slowly becoming Marco's philosophy) then there could be no regrets. No regrets.

"I really…" Marco didn't know why he had to say it. After all, it wasn't as if Dylan didn't already know, but he wanted to just get it out there. "…really like you, Dylan."

Dylan smiled brightly, leaning his hand across the table to put it on Marco's. "I really like you too."

They were both done eating, so Dylan, despite Marco's protests, had paid the bill. He excused himself by stating that it 'really hadn't been much, anyway". Marco and Dylan didn't want to go home quite yet, so they decided to just drive around for a bit.

For a few moments, there wasn't much either one had to say, which seemed to happen quite a bit. Marco, mainly to remind himself that Dylan was still with him, started up a conversation.

"So…" he started. Okay, maybe it wasn't a conversation, but at least he had made his presence known.

"So," Dylan repeated.

The conversation seemed to be getting nowhere until Marco remembered something. "You knew I didn't want Spinner to know about…me," said Marco. "How?"

"Well," said Dylan, "I actually didn't," he laughed. "I just though it would be weird for you having Spinner witness this. I didn't realize he wasn't even aware it was happening."

"Oh," said Marco, "I mean, it's not that I'm," he turned to Dylan, wondering what to say, "embarrassed because of you; I'm not. I just…" he stopped, begging for Dylan to save him from drowning.

Dylan took his right hand off the wheel, placing it comfortingly on Marco's knee. Marco tried not to show that his entire body froze up at the simply touch.

"I understand," Dylan assured him. "But I'm going to give you fair warning, he'll know by tomorrow…if he doesn't already."

"I know, but," he didn't want to start any sort of argument while they had been having such a good time, so he let it go.

"You don't care that anybody knows about," (Why couldn't he just say it?) "your uh… problem?" he finished, using the word 'problem' only because he had a lack of any better words, but it still seemed slightly fitting.

"No," said Dylan. "I don't care because it isn't a problem. You need to understand that. Besides," he finally removed his hand from Marco's knee, disappointing Marco, "I have a lot of problems, Marco, and that isn't one of them."

Marco was curious as to what, exactly, Dylan meant by that, but he figured it was better to let it be Dylan's own business, at least, for a little while.

"I really wish I didn't have to go home," Marco laughed, "but I should be getting back now."

"No problem," said Dylan, turning in the direction of Marco's house. When the arrived, Marco tried to think of every excuse in the book to try and be able to have five more minutes, but he knew enough was enough. He had to go inside.

"This is your house," said Dylan, pulling up into the driveway.

"I guess it is," Marco agreed, though made no movements. "Okay," he sighed, opening the door, "I guess I'll see you, uh, Monday?"

"Yeah," said Dylan, debating whether or not it would be okay to kiss him. What if Marco hadn't has as good of a time with him as he had? What if Marco didn't want to go out with him again? What if he wanted to just get in the house as quickly as possible, and his saying, 'I don't want to go home, but…" was just a cover-up?

"Marco?" he said, just as Marco had been about to walk out the door. Marco sat back down.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face him eagerly.

Dylan leaned over, placing a light, but sweet, kiss on the younger boy's lips. It was extremely short, but that didn't matter. When he saw the smiled that appeared on Marco's lips and in his eyes, Dylan knew he'd done the right thing.

A/N: Okay, so please tell me what you thought. I must know. Review!


	13. Disgusting Love

**A/N: So, even though I have "magical powers", (according to one sweet reviewer) I am definitely not perfect, as we all know, and make stupid mistakes all the time. I checked over chapter twelve three times, but apparently not well enough because there was a little mistake with the word "saw" that I'm glad (but also not so glad hehe) that some of you caught. I replied to your reviews, but I'm also going to say that I'm sorry for that mistake, and I fixed it. I'll try not to let it happen again. It's funny, but it seems I got so many reviews for that chapter just because of the mistake! I'm so embarrassed lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter too!**

Marco made his way into the house, smiling like an idiot, but not caring even in the least.

"Marco," said his mother, hearing the door close. Marco, who had been leaning against the front door since he walked in, wasn't planning on moving from that spot. He felt that if he took one step, he might fall forward from the absolute high feelings he had gotten from the kiss.

"Yeah," he practically whispered back, sure his mother couldn't hear him," I'm here."

Mrs. Del Rossi walked out of her bedroom, seeing Marco still standing by the door. By the smile on his face, she was given all of the answers she needed. He'd definitely had a good time.

She smiled back at him, noticing he refused to move away from the door. "Waiting for him to come back?" she asked, amused.

"No," he laughed, realizing he was being silly. "I'm going to just…go to bed," he said softly.

"You do that," she watched him walk down the hallway to his bedroom.

Marco opened the door to his room, still with a huge smile on his face, and sat down on his bed, but he realized there was no way he was going to be able to sleep from all the excitement. He needed to call Ellie.

It was ten o'clock on a Friday night; she'd be awake. He picked up his cell phone from its place on the windowsill, dialing her number. She didn't answer.

"Damn," he whispered. "I need to tell _somebody. _I just need to get it out," he laughed at the thought of how stupid it really was. He didn't need to tell anyone, but the thought of saying it aloud was just too good to be true.

"I kissed Dylan," if he couldn't tell anyone else, he'd have to repeat it to himself. "Well, he kissed me, technically speaking, but we _kissed." _

Marco was a lot happier than he'd been in…he didn't remember how long, and it was a great feeling. Sometimes the thought of Dylan helped him relax, and to be able to sleep. Sometimes, on nights like the current one, the thought of Dylan simply made him stay up all night continuing to think of him.

"Dylan," he said, for no reason. "Dylan…Dylan…Dylan…." After much trying, Marco eventually fell asleep that night.

"So, I hear you had quite the Friday night," said Ellie, opening her locker with a slight smirk.

Regretfully, Marco hadn't seen Dylan after their date, so over the weekend, he'd had nothing to do, but the excitement of the date still hadn't quite worn off.

"I tried to call you," he started, frowning. She rolled her eyes.

"My phone told me I had forty-three missed calls from you; it's okay. Paige told me all about it at the door," she laughed.

"What did she say?" he asked eagerly, following her to class.

Ellie took a seat, taking Marco's hand again, letting him feel the distance from her chair to his.

"Well," said Ellie, "she said that Dylan didn't stop smiling and talking all about you the whole weekend. Now, I don't know about you," she said, "but that sounds like a good sign."

"He _kissed _me," Marco exclaimed, still unable to believe such a thing had happened.

"Yeah?" said Ellie. "Lucky you."

"Ms. Nash, Mr. Del Rossi," said Ms. Kwan, causing their attention to focus on her instead of each other, "care to join us?" They nodded their heads quickly, ending the conversation.

Ellie and Marco walked out of their fourth period class together, leading Marco to where Craig was standing waiting for him. Fifth period was their gym class, and Ellie didn't really think the gym teachers would find it appropriate for her to be in the boys' locker room. **She **wasn't the blind one, after all.

"Hey, man," he smiled, taking Marco's arm. Marco smiled up at him, letting Ellie know it was okay to leave.

Craig led Marco into the locker room. He muttered, "Need to talk to you," and led him over to an empty corner.

Marco raised his eyebrow, waiting for Craig to say something. He took a deep breath. "Spinner knows," he said simply. Marco's heart dropped. To make things worse, Craig quickly added, "and he's not too happy about it, either."

"Greeeat," said Marco, sounding unhappy, but not letting on how nervous he truly was. What, exactly, was Spinner capable of, and how far would he go?

"Here, I'll get you to your locker," said Craig, walking him over. What Craig failed to mention was, not only did Spinner know, but he also let quite a few others know as well. Marco could feel the eyes burning holes in him when he simply touched his locker.

He tried to ignore it, but that never really worked for him before. He held his breath, pretending he could open his lock himself, (which he often did pretend, even though Ellie actually did it for him) and tried to calm his nerves. Finally, Craig took pity on him, and opened the lock.

As soon as Craig stepped over to Marco's locker, there was silence. Craig spotted one guy next to him throw another guy in front of him as he tried to dress.

"Are you kidding?" Craig asked, losing control. "Even if he wanted to check you out, he's blind, so GET over it."

Marco, though embarrassed, was thankful that Craig was so accepting of the situation that he had only just found out about. Marco gave up with trying to ignore them.

"Can you just take me to the bathroom to change?" he asked, hopeful.

Craig wished Marco would stand up for himself, and not let anyone make him feel bad, but he knew it must have been taking all of his will power to even keep himself from getting even more upset than he was, so Craig didn't push the subject. He took Marco's arm loyally, and took him to the bathroom to change.

During their walk back to gym class, (late) Marco thought about how he hadn't really thought about his and Craig's friendship, and they hadn't ever really talked, but Marco was going to make sure that changed. Craig was a good friend.

"Is Spinner here?" Marco asked Craig, wondering why he hadn't been approached by the homophobe yet.

"Well, he's not in gym, but I saw him this morning. Odd," said Craig, but he didn't think too much of it as Mr. Armstrong had called them both over to take attendance.

After gym class, Marco met up with Ellie to walk to fifth period. "So, Spinner knows about you, and he wasn't in gym?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Marco.

Ellie shrugged. "He probably just cut. No big deal. However, the first part is an issue. Have you talked to him?" she asked.

"I just explained that he wasn't in gym. The only other class I have with him is lunch," Marco sighed. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Don't worry," said Ellie, giving his arm a tug as they arrived at their next class. "He's not, like, a murderer," she laughed. Marco tried to stop worrying, but that never worked for him.

Finally, it was time for lunch. Marco excitedly unloaded his stuff from his locker, following the usual routine, and wasn't at all surprised when he heard Dylan come up behind him.

"Marco," said Dylan, waiting for him to turn around.

"Hey," he said, feeling slightly shyer than he thought he'd be. "What's up?" he asked.

"Your book--"

"—is falling, I know," Marco interrupted, grabbing it. Did he ever stop _helping? _

Dylan sighed. "Sorry," he quickly muttered. "So, I wanted to talk to you."

"About?" asked Marco.

"Well, my sister's birthday is tomorrow, and there's this whole big party planned. Not by me," he added, "so, it'll be good." Marco laughed, letting Dylan continue. "She doesn't exactly know about it. Want to come?"

"For you or for your sister?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Dylan shrugged. "Both, I guess."

"I'd love to. Tomorrow? Short notice," he tsked. "You couldn't have told me earlier?" he joked.

"Cool," said Dylan, smiling. "I just…want to be clear on this. Are we, like, a…" he stopped mid-sentence, trying to think of the exact word he wanted to say.

"A what?" Marco pressed.

"Couple?" said Dylan.

"Oh," said Marco, his question making more sense, "well, not if you don't want to be."

"No, I do!" said Dylan. Marco smiled, his spirits rising again, despite what he was going to have to face in the cafeteria. "I just thought maybe you didn't. I don't know," he rolled his eyes.

"I do," he assured Dylan. "I do have to go, though. For once, I actually have to be early for lunch. Wish me luck," he said when Ellie arrived next to him. Marco then kissed Dylan quickly before he had a chance to rethink it.

"Good luck?"

Marco didn't really have time to explain, so he just waved, telling him to go, and walked with Ellie to the cafeteria.

He sat down at their usual table after walking up to the lunch line with Ellie to purchase food. He tried to concentrate on eating it slowly, so he wouldn't really have to think about Spinner. He hated not being able to know if Spinner was even at the table with him. Even though they knew he was blind, he still felt like a lunatic asking if Spinner was with them.

However, his question was answered when Spinner sat down across from him. Marco knew it was Spinner due to his grumbling about some assignment he had to get done by the following period. So far, he hadn't said a word to Marco, and Marco was planning on keeping it that way.

Marco pretended to be so busy practicing with his Braille, ignoring every question or comment thrown his way. Finally, Spinner gave his unwanted attention.

"Were you always a fag, Marco?" he asked, not caring even after hearing Paige's cry of 'Spinner!' "Or…did Dylan successfully convert you?" he asked.

Marco tried to remain as calm as possible, deciding to point out Spinner's mistake rather than be offended. "Well, it's really not a decision or a conversion."

Spinner laughed, though he certainly didn't sound entertained. "Then, this is something you were even before you came here?" he asked.

Marco didn't feel the need to mention that it was part of the reason _why _he had come. "Yes," he muttered quietly.

"It's just," Spinner tried to find the appropriate word, "_disgusting." _

"_Marco, not only is it absolutely wrong to be gay…it's **disgusting."**_** --Giulio**

Disgusting. Giulio had said it. Spinner had said it. Hell, before any of his relatives knew he was gay, they called gays disgusting on almost a daily basis. Why, exactly, was it disgusting that he wanted to be with the only person who made him feel truly happy? Why was it so disgusting that the person he had strong feelings for was a guy? Why did it matter?

It had hurt him when Giulio said it, of course. He had lost such a close family member, but it felt worse than a knife to the heart that he was going to lose a new friend. Couldn't these people see that his desire in life really wasn't to be _disgusting? _

"You know," he said softly, not really speaking to anyone in particular, "I'm not really hungry anymore." He pushed his tray away to prove his point.

A/N: I hope you liked it. :)


	14. Marco's Trust

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. :)

At the end of the school day, Ellie left Marco at his locker, then left to go to her own. She hoped he was going to be okay about the whole Spinner situation after a while. Marco quietly picked out his books, barely caring if he was getting the right ones or not.

"Marco," said Dylan, tapping his shoulder. Marco smiled. Just like that. It was amazing how he could feel such horrible pain just from one word from Spinner, and then just 'Marco' coming out of Dylan's mouth made him feel so much better.

"Hey," he said back, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

"I am going to assume you're walking home with Ellie," said Dylan. Marco nodded. "Want me to give you both a ride?" he asked.

"Oh," said Marco, "thank you."

They waited for Ellie to come back, not really speaking at all, but not needing words to project how happy they both were to spend even a few minutes together.

"Hey, El, Dylan's going to give us a ride, okay?" Ellie nodded, also thankful.

Marco, Ellie, and Dylan piled into Dylan's car, still not having said anything important other than thanking Dylan for his kindness. Ellie was uncomfortable.

"Hi, Dylan," she said, feeling the need to bring up conversation.

"Hey," Dylan said back to her, concentrating on the road. "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good," she smiled, glad that Marco couldn't see the concerned glance she shot his way. "How are you?

"Fine," he replied. "Marco, everything okay?" he asked, noticing Ellie's glance in his direction. "You're very quiet."

Marco shrugged, leaning his head against the cool window. "I'm okay," he answered after a while.

"You sure?" asked Dylan. Ellie was glad he didn't let it go right away.

"_Yes," _he answered, trying to smile.

Dylan was afraid to push the conversation any further, so he simply turned his eyes back to the road. He dropped Ellie off at her house first, (simply because it was easier that way, of course) leaving him alone in the car with a silent Marco.

"You know," said Marco, finally speaking, "you don't have to take advantage of the fact that I can't see you because I'm not stupid; I know you keep looking at me."

Dylan sighed. "Marco, I just--"

"I know," he interrupted, "but I'm fine, like I said." Marco concentrated on pushing his fingers through each strand of the hair on his head for the rest of the car ride. He knew he was making Dylan feel bad, and didn't want to be doing that this early in the relationship, so when he dropped him off, he tried to be pleasant.

"Thanks for driving me home," he picked his bag up from off the floor, and opened the car door. "I'll…umm…see you tomorrow, right?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Yeah, the party. Come over at, like, six. Spinner's taking her out first," said Dylan.

Marco nodded, leaning over to have his lips captured, once again, by Dylan. He pulled away, trying not to think of the pain caused by that name.

"Tomorrow," said Marco, getting out of the car.

"Bye," said Dylan. His car drove away. Marco sighed, walking up the driveway, opening the door, and noticing his mother didn't seem to be in the house, he went down the hallway to his room.

Marco always closed the door behind him when he walked into the room. Sadly, it was more out of nerves than a simple case of wanting privacy. Lately, he'd been thinking about the reasons more and more. They didn't really mesh. Sometimes, he desperately wanted to keep his door open, so that if someone were to want to hurt him, his mother (if she were home) would be able to get in. Other times, he thought closing it would be a much better idea, keeping the unwanted guests out. However, he didn't choose either way. His body simply did it for him.

What or who was Marco actually afraid of? He did settle, well, as much as he could, the problems with Giulio. Also, even if the boy was out to get him, he was about an eight to ten hour flight away from him.

Was it Spinner? Yes, he was hurt by the unkind words he'd spoken, but did he really believe Spinner would come to physically hurt him? Was he rationally afraid? Was he just upset? Marco tried to force himself to stop thinking because thinking always made things worse.

"I'm in my room," said Marco to himself, seated on his bed, touching the door again to make sure it was closed, though knowing it was. "The door is closed," he got up from his bed to pull the windows a bit, as though proving to himself nothing could happen. "The windows are also closed." He sat back down on the bed, trying to remain calm, hoping that he would not have any sort of a panic attack. He took a deep breath. "Everything's okay."

Honestly, Marco did feel safer after checking every lock once or twice. However, safety wasn't the only thing on his mind. Marco also desired approval. Whether people understood his need for it or not, they certainly didn't give it. It wasn't as though he didn't work for it, either.

Good grades: He'd always worked for them, even when it was starting to become exceptionally difficult due to the blindness, but he worked nonetheless. Sometimes, his mother noticed.

The way he dressed? When he dressed the way _he _liked it, it was always in some hope to impress some boy. However, when he dressed the way many people felt a 'straight' boy was supposed to dress, it was supposed to be approved by everyone else. Normally, though, (with the exception of Dylan) no one really acknowledged the way he dressed in a good way.

Being straight. That was definitely a big one. He'd spent many years of his life trying to deny it, and deep down, one always knows. He or she may not really _know _until an older age because when a kid is young, it's all about cooties anyway. Half the time, they don't know what gay is anyway. But when Marco knew what the words gay and straight meant, he knew he was different. Not necessarily gay, but considering the way people looked at gays, they'd always see his feminine looks for homosexuality. The fact that he really was gay was beside the point. He was the stereotype in everything he did.

The point is that Marco tried to pretend he was straight even after he knew there was no way in hell he was. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be with a guy, but he **didn't **want to be with a girl. Pretending to be straight, though it was what he did want, wasn't done for himself. It was done to impress. It was done so that he could be approved.

All he ever looked for was approval, and instead, he got dirty looks, bashings, and the loss of a new friend because of the one thing in his life he couldn't control.

"Marco," called his mother from the other room. Marco thought about ignoring her to deal with his own thoughts, but that wasn't fair to her.

"Yeah?" he called back, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"How was your day?" she asked, coming closer to his room.

Marco sighed. "Fine, yours?" Politeness and faking happiness would get the conversation over more quickly, he figured.

"Good," she said, walking away from the door again.

Marco lay back on his bed, remembering that he'd specifically told himself not to think. What was he doing? He sighed again, pulling out his books and his cell phone.

"Hey, Ellie," he said, glad she picked up on the first ring. "I know you just got home," he laughed, "but I hate doing homework on my own, and my mom pretends like she understands it. Want to come over?" he asked.

Ellie, too, laughed. "Sure," she said, glad that he sounded happier than when she'd left. "I'll be right over."

"You're, like, a math genius," said Ellie, laughing. "I mean, I'm reading the problem, you don't even know what it says, and you already have the answer."

"I have three quarters of the question!" he exclaimed. "That's enough!"

"Thankfully, we are done with that headache," she rolled her eyes. "I don't see why you like math. Other than the fact that you're good at it, there doesn't seem to be anything appealing about it."

Marco laughed. "No one understands," he said dramatically.

"At the risk of being yelled at," Ellie started, "I need to know what was wrong today, you know, in the car."

"Ellie--"

"And don't you dare say nothing!" she interrupted firmly. "I'm not stupid, and I know you well enough to know that there is something…" she stopped, seeing that he got the point.

Marco knew he had to tell her the truth because she wouldn't give up until she got it, but the truth sounded so stupid. Surely, it sounds dumb to say 'I hate being with this boy I adore'. That wasn't exactly it. He definitely didn't hate his new boyfriend. He just hated being hated, basically.

Marco was feeling unaccepted, which sometimes caused him to act a bit out of character. However, knowing his reasoning for feeling the way he did made him sound silly and odd, he didn't want to explain. Besides, he was sitting in his bedroom, lying down next to Ellie, simply talking. He felt fine at that moment.

"Okay, so it's not exactly nothing," he gave in, "but it's something I don't want to discuss."

"Maaarco," she whined, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Don't give me that. If you're hurt about something, I can help."

Marco shook his head. "I honestly don't know how to explain it," he said truthfully, putting his head down, letting his arms also fall beside him. Ellie moved closer, pushing the hair out of his face.

"Try?" she suggested, very close to him.

Marco cleared his throat. "I am starting to agree with everyone, El," he said, frowning.

"With what?" she asked.

"That I'm…" he winced at the thought, "_disgusting._"

"Marco!" she said, appalled, sitting up quickly, and pulling him up to do the same. "First of all, not everyone thinks you are. Yes," she admitted, "there are those few, but they have no idea what they're _talking _about."

Marco shrugged. "This is why I didn't want to tell you. You'd get all weird and freaked out, spouting all this stuff about what a great person I am."

Ellie shut her mouth hurriedly. She had just been about to explain to him what a great person she really did think he was. She opened her mouth again, figuring she'd go the other way.

"Okay, one boy, I believe his name is…John? Your gym class?" Marco nodded, knowing whom she was talking about. "Well, last year, he dated four girls at the same time. As a ninth grader, he had _sex _with four girls! All the while, these girls didn't even know about each other," said Ellie. "That is what I like to call _disgusting._ It doesn't matter what the outcome was, Marco."

"Ellie," he started again.

"No," she said. "Please listen." Marco nodded in return, waiting for her to speak. "Hitler and the Nazis…. what they did, _that _is what most people would refer to as disgusting and horrible. Marco, ANYONE who puts you in that category next to those two people is out of their minds and downright disgusting themselves."

There was silence for a little while after Ellie's little speech. Marco didn't dare utter a word because he was sure anything he could say next to that would be unheard.

"Marco," said Ellie again, "please don't ever let anyone make you think you're bad."

Marco laughed, though he didn't really find any humor in the situation. "It's a little too late for that," he said, biting his lip. "Ellie, I try," he said, trying to make her understand, "to not let what they say bother me, but I went to _Catholic _school my whole life! I've heard the worst things. Worse than you can possibly imagine. I grew up with the basic rules. Do your homework. Be a good boy. Don't be gay. It didn't matter if it was my dad, the rest of my family, peers, or even teachers. I was put down constantly. It's just hard."

"I'm sure it is," Ellie agreed, though she knew she didn't understand how bad it must have been, "but it'll get better. I'm not going to lie and say, 'eventually, the homophobes will all be gone,' because we both know that'll never happen. However, I do hope you begin to see that what they say doesn't matter."

"It _does," _he argued, not ready to end the conversation, standing up. "It does matter because I want to have them like me for what and who I am, but I also want Dylan. I hate being judged."

"Everyone goes through that," Ellie, too, stood up, and put her hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him. "

"But--"

"Nope!" Ellie said loudly, cutting off any chance he had to protest. She wasn't going to be accepting any excuse. "I have to go. Promise I'll find you happy the next time I see you, which will be at school…then the party tomorrow. Oddly, I'm going."

Marco nodded. "Okay," he put his arm out, his common gesture for her to move in to wherever he was to hug him.

"Promise," she said again. Marco sighed.

"I promise the next time you see me, there will be this huge smile on my face that says 'I am the luckiest and most amazing boy in the world.' That do it for you?" he asked, smiling.

She laughed, and finally offered him the hug he'd wanted. "Bye!"

Marco waved as she walked out of his bedroom, not forgetting to get up and lock it. Twice. Fear of some intruder or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? He didn't know which was worse.

The next morning before school, Marco found himself again in Cathy's car. He had long since found out that it was a silver corvette, after asking many questions. That had been one of them. Marco felt that the best way to feel comfortable the way he was, was to ask many questions. Though he always asked Ellie a lot of questions about the way she looked, and what she was wearing, and also Dylan and his other friends, Cathy had been bombarded with the most. Marco knew how almost everything she owned in her apartment, her car, and on her body (the outside) looked. They had become his fascinations. Questions and appearances. It also amazed him how appearances had never mattered to him before he knew he'd no longer be able to tell one from the other.

Cathy pulled into the parking lot, walking with a smiling Marco. "You look happy," she commented.

"I've got to smile for Ellie today. I made a promise," he laughed.

"I see. So, I was having an innocent little chat with your mother and…a boy's name simply popped up. Any information?" Marco shook his head, making Cathy laugh.

"Okay, tight lips, I'll get it out of you sometime. Just wait until you have another question for me, I'll throw this back out you." She took his arm, ready to help him up the stairs as usual, but Marco gently took his hand away.

"Can I…walk them myself today?" he asked, sounding hopeful. No matter how independent Marco felt he was, he'd made it clear to almost everyone that he hated the stairs. Even after he counted them and knew them well, they still sort of scared him, so Cathy was rather surprised by his request.

"Sure," she said. "I'll just walk next to you, okay?"

Marco nodded thankfully. He reached his arm out to touch the railing, then slowly walked up one step. Two. Three.

"Four," he said, not even realizing he'd started speaking aloud. "Five," he had nothing to worry about, so he tried to stop his hand from shaking so much. He knew there were annoyed people behind him, so he moved on as fast as he could. "Six," he said, walking up to the next one. "Seven."

"Done," said Cathy, sounding impressed. "I'm proud of you," she smiled, affectionately rubbing his back.

"Let's go in," he sighed. He felt like he was a year old, and his mother was trying to help him learn how to walk for the first time.

Cathy took the hint. She opened the door for him, following his footsteps closely as they walked together to his first class, meeting Ellie there as always.

"Have a good day," said Cathy, walking off after giving a quick smile to Ellie.

"You're smiling," Ellie noticed.

"I don't break promises," Marco said, following her into the classroom.

Marco's day had gone pretty well, for the most part. He had to suffer that whole 'excited for the party, so time moves slower' kind of thing, but he had still gotten through it. Dylan offered to drive him home again. Ellie was staying after school for extra help, so she didn't need the service.

"Hey," said Dylan, pulling out of the driveway, "you happy today?"

Marco's smile only grew wider. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sorry about yesterday."

"It's fine," said Dylan, brushing off his apology. "I was just worried about you, you know?"

"Yeah," Marco replied, playing with the cross around his neck, and staring blankly ahead.

"Okay, see, that's why I worry," Dylan laughed lightly. "Now, all of a sudden, you look depressed again," he said, putting his hand gently on Marco's knee, something he did quite frequently as a gesture of comfort. It definitely was comforting to know that someone wanted to be around Marco as much as Dylan seemed to.

"Don't," Marco said, putting his hand over Dylan's. "Don't worry."

Dylan sighed. "I'll try. It's just every time I see you smile, within a moment, it's gone." They had arrived in Marco's driveway, and Dylan picked up his hand from Marco's knee to gently run it across his cheek. "I like to see you happy."

"I am," said Marco, "really," he added, knowing Dylan didn't believe him. "It's just…I have trust problems."

"Do you not trust me?" Dylan asked, confused.

"I do. It's just people have let me down in the past sorely, and I need to know you won't do the same," said Marco.

When Dylan had said he was worried, Marco's immediate brain reaction was that he was upset because of the 'disgusting' thing coming back. After Dylan had mentioned the previous day, he'd thought about it again, but he didn't even see Spinner that day. (Hence, the day being a good one.) It surprised even Marco when that trust thing came out of his mouth. Maybe the door closing, window-locking fears actually made sense to him deep inside his brain without even knowing it.

Besides his independence, there had also been another reason why he never let anyone get to close trying to help him. Who knows what someone could do? Dylan could have told him it was one textbook when, in fact, it was the wrong one. Now that he thought about it, it really did make a lot of sense. He had a fear of trusting others and he **hated **the fact that, in his blind state, he mostly had to depend on them. He had never before thought of it that way. When the words came out of his mouth, though, he realized that they were definitely true.

"I can't pretend I understand," Dylan started, "but I will tell you that you can trust me. I won't let you down, Marco."

Marco was extremely glad for that, and he gave all his trust to Dylan at that moment. Every little insecurity and unhappy emotion he had in his heart, he gave to Dylan. Whether Dylan knew it or not, wanted it or not, he was getting years of Marco's heartache thrown at him. Dylan had his trust, and he had full responsibility of holding it well.

Marco didn't explain to Dylan that task he was taking on because it was already implied. Dylan had his trust and his heart, and he knew how to handle it. Marco kissed him fully, more than just the short kisses they'd given each other before. It was so much more than that because it symbolized Marco's entire being just given generously away to the boy next to him. He kissed him as though there wouldn't be a tomorrow (and as though he wouldn't be with him a few hours after). He kissed him as though nothing in the world mattered. He kissed him as though the word disgusting had never existed about him or anyone else.

When Marco kissed him, he gave him his trust and, perhaps unknowingly to both of them, his love. One can never completely get those things back.

A/N: Okay, so yay? Did you like it? Lol. I hope so. I already know what is basically going to happen in the next chapter, and it's not going to be pretty. Review, please? I'm sick and my back hurts lol, but if you review, I can assure you, those pesky little problems will seem miles away, and I'll write like the wind. Love you all!


	15. The Party

A/N: So, you may want to kill me after you read this chapter. I don't know. Lol. This is something I've had planned since the very beginning, so (psumathgirl, sorry if this problem wasn't what you wanted or expected) I know how it's basically going to end up turning out. Also, I have to say that I always like to personally reply to my reviews, but on some reviews, my computer didn't want to this time! If you're one of those people, I'm sorry, but I'll just say thank you here to all of you who take the time to review. It really makes me happy :) I'm also not really sure about this chapter…It was going to be a bit different, but whatever.

"Marco, hey!" said Dylan, coming to the door.

"Sorry, I'm late," Marco smiled guiltily. "I missed the whole surprise thing, right?"

"No big deal," Dylan took Marco's hand. "Come on, hun!" Dylan led Marco into the kitchen to greet everyone, specifically guiding him away from Spinner. Either Spinner hadn't noticed his arrival or he was making a point to ignore him.

After everyone had exchanged pleasantries with Marco, and he'd said happy birthday to Paige, he and Dylan walked back into the living room.

"So, I heard Spinner didn't really take it that well," said Dylan, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Marco shook his head. "I don't care," he whispered, which he knew was a lie. Obviously, he cared very much. Dylan seemed to see through his lie.

"Come on," Dylan probed, lifting Marco's head up to look him into his lying brown eyes. "You have to tell me the truth."

Marco sighed, leaning into Dylan who held him tightly, not caring about the others in the room. Besides, they all were obviously enjoying themselves too much to pay attention.

Marco thought about what he wanted to say carefully, finally deciding Dylan didn't care too much about his reasoning; he just wanted, "Okay, I do care."

Dylan laughed, a sound that seriously surprised Marco. What in the world was so funny?

"Why, though?" he asked.

"_Why?" _Marco repeated, pulling away, and turning to face him. "How can you ask me why? I care because it matters to me."

Dylan smiled slightly. "That really doesn't answer my question," he said.

Marco rolled his eyes. "I don't like when people don't like me, Dylan. I thought you would understand that. Especially by now."

"Marco," Dylan took his hand in his, rubbing slow circles around his wrist, calming Marco slightly, "I'm sorry, but I really don't get why it matters to you."

"It just does," Marco shot back, ready to just end the conversation because he knew he felt tears coming.

"This isn't about Spinner," Dylan said, still speaking calmly. Marco was annoyed that Dylan was acting the way he was, mainly because he knew what he was saying was right. It wasn't just because of Spinner. He was definitely part of the problem, but it wasn't him alone.

"Yes, it is," Marco said back to him, putting his hand over his eyes, begging for the tears to not come.

"No," Dylan argued, knowing Marco's patience was breaking, "it's not."

"You're scared," he continued, ignoring Marco's obviously pained face.

"Maybe I am, but that still--"

"Don't tell me it doesn't mean anything because it means everything, Marco. I don't want you to be afraid to be who you are," said Dylan, letting go of Marco's hand.

"You didn't," said Marco, "by any chance, talk to Ellie, did you?" he laughed.

"No, but we all see how you're beating yourself up," said Dylan, leaning over to kiss him.

And suddenly, Marco noticed the people. Sure, he'd noticed them before. He'd heard them speaking, but now he cared. What did those people think of him? What were they thinking about when Dylan kissed him?

'Relax, Marco,' he told himself calmly. What they thought didn't matter, right? That's what Dylan was trying to tell him! He smiled, and tried to act like nothing was wrong.

"My cousin hurt me," Marco whispered, always shocked when things such as that came out of his mouth. He hadn't planned on saying it, and really didn't know where it came from.

"What?" Dylan asked, confused.

"My cousin…he…it doesn't really matter," he laughed nervously. He hated talking about it.

"No, it does," said Dylan. "It really does. Please."

"He just," Marco was ashamed to find himself crying, "hurt me really badly. Physically and emotionally, and I'm not over it."

"Okay," said Dylan softly, running his hand along Marco's forearm, really not sure what to say.

"And I keep saying I am!" cried Marco, no longer trying to prevent the tears, knowing they were going to keep coming. "I'm just not, though. What he did, like, ruined me. No one understands."

No one understood the pain he had kept inside for so long after the incident with Giulio. Hell, no one understood when he had told his father "Giulio is out to get me. He hates me, dad."

No one ever took him seriously because he was being a 'drama queen' in their eyes. No one understood what it felt like to wake up in the hospital one morning, knowing the last person he had seen was Giulio, but not remembering anything that had happened on that night.

No one understood how it felt to be told that you were never going to see again. They didn't understand how it felt to have eyes on a face as mainly decoration because what good did the eyes do if their main purpose wasn't functional? It was kind of like keeping a broken toy that can no longer be used.

No one understood how emotionally drained he'd been after the word 'faggot' had been imprinted into his heart as though it was supposed to tell people his name. It hurt that Marco had to walk around carrying the feeling that everyone simply knew what he was because he couldn't hide. It. Everywhere he went, he felt people's eyes on him.

No one even tried to understand until Dylan came along. He wanted to get it. He wanted to know how Marco was feeling. If he could, he'd have taken Marco's pain away, but there was too much. Too much pain.

"The truth is, I don't think I'll ever get over it," said Marco. "I don't know what I want."

Marco had confessed all of those feelings to Dylan in the best way he could, hoping that none of the other occupants of the room had noticed. The music was probably too loud, anyway. Marco could barely hear himself think.

Dylan looked down, unsure of what to say. He had enough brain cells to figure out that Marco's cousin was the one who had blinded him. He didn't ask how; he didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry," was all he said. "Do you want to go home, Marco? I'll be fine if you do," he said, kissing his cheek softly.

"I don't know," he shrugged. He had finally stopped crying "No, I want to be here." Leaving wasn't a good option. Staying with Dylan made him happier, after all. There was no reason to go home.

"So, I'm glad you told me…" said Dylan, finally letting go of Marco. Marco, though sad that his touch had left, was happy that Dylan understood he didn't need to be constantly held and protected.

Marco nodded. "I trust you," he mumbled, still rather freaked out by that idea.

Dylan looked to the door, and then quickly stood up. "Upstairs?" he suggested, not waiting for Marco's response, but simply pulling him up the stairs with him.

"Uh, 'scuse me?" said Marco, pulling his hand away. Dylan sighed, tapping his foot.

"Sorry, but please?" he decided to ask rather than to pull any longer.

Too late. "Hey, Dylan," said the boy he'd been trying to avoid.

"Hey," said Dylan, keeping his eyes off the box in his hands. "How are you?" he asked.

"Fine…don't lunge at it, Dyl," he winked, walking off to the kitchen. Dylan quickly turned back to Marco.

Marco raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" he asked, the confusion of not seeing what went on around him was building up.

"My friend Mike," said Dylan, shrugging. "He likes to torture me."

"Okay…" said Marco slowly, not really interested in pushing the subject any further. "Are we still going up the stairs?" he asked, laughing slightly.

"Oh, no, it's fine now," Dylan replied, taking Marco's hand. Marco shook his head, beyond confused.

"You want to go outside?" he asked. "I mean, I love these people and all, but it's getting kind of crazy."

Marco definitely didn't mind being able to get away from the people as well, and nodded. "Absolutely," he said.

In order to get to the backyard deck, which was where they were heading, the two needed to walk through the loud kitchen. Out of all the places for the rambunctious guests to settle in, why was it the kitchen?

"Dylan," said Mike from the corner of the room. Marco felt his hand being released as Dylan greeted his friend with a handshake.

Marco was going to move closer to take Dylan's hand again, being nervous in such a place where so many people were crashing into him, but when he tried to get closer, he decided he'd better stay put. More collisions would actually be avoided that way.

He simply decided to tap his foot against the ground, waiting for Dylan to realize how uncomfortable he felt.

"Oh, Mike," said Dylan, guiding Marco in front of him again, "this is my boyfriend, Marco." Dylan had no idea how much that word affected Marco.

"Hey, Marco," said Mike. "It's nice to meet you," he held his hand out for Marco to shake. Dylan guided Marco's hand toward Mike's, and Marco got the picture, shaking it. Mike looked confusedly up at Dylan.

"Nothing," Dylan muttered, not certain he was supposed to tell people.

"Oookay," laughed Mike. "So, Dylan, still think you can make it?" he smirked.

"Well, Mike," Marco could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth, and he wondered what was wrong, "I'm going to make it. I'm not stupid enough to--"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Mike interrupted, rolling his eyes, and Marco could tell he didn't seem quite as angry as Dylan. He just simply sounded skeptical.

"Come on, Marco," said Dylan, continuing their venture to the backyard.

"One can't hurt!" they heard Mike yell before closing the sliding door.

Dylan sat down on the white porch swing, pulling Marco down next to him. Marco was silent, and though he was itching to know, he didn't ask what Mike had meant by what he said. He tried to relax, leaning his head on Dylan's shoulder who smiled and stroked his hair lightly.

After a few minutes of silence, Marco simply had to break it. His curiosity got the better of him.

"So, what was Mike talking about?" (A/N: It's so odd. I knew I had some connection with the name Mike, but I couldn't remember from where. He has nothing to do with I See You. I swear lol.)

"Oh," said Dylan, not entirely shocked that he'd brought it up. "He was just being stupid. He drinks…a lot."

"So, he's…drunk?" Marco asked, trying to get the facts straight.

"Maybe," Dylan shrugged. "Who knows?"

Dylan had gotten what he'd wanted by having Marco drop the subject, but Marco wasn't stupid. Dylan wasn't telling him everything. Marco did; however, stop talking about it with him.

"I'll be back," said Dylan, stretching for a moment before going inside. Marco sighed. He didn't like the thought of being out on an unfamiliar porch alone.

"Sure," he didn't protest. He wasn't dependent on Dylan, was he? Dylan certainly wasn't allowed to think he was, anyway.

"Hey, Del Rossi!"

Great. Here he was, thinking about how he wasn't afraid to be alone without Dylan, his protector, and someone decides to prove to him that he definitely was.

Marco's whole body automatically tensed up at the thought of someone else being outside with him. He knew the voice, of course, but it didn't stop him from being nervous.

"Yes, Spinner?" he asked, hoping he would just go away.

"Where's your boyfriend?" said Spinner, smirking. "He leave you?"

If Marco wasn't so nervous, he'd probably have made some sort of comment about how Spinner was obviously in love with him, and that the only reason he was angry with him was because of jealousy.

However, he was nervous, so that didn't come out of his mouth. "No," he said softly, ashamed to see his hands were shaking. Lord, Spinner wasn't going to kill him! Why was he so shaken up?

"Easy, Marco," Spinner laughed. "Scared of me?" he asked. Actually, Marco didn't believe Spinner would hurt him. He didn't seem to hate gays, more just uncomfortable and slightly grossed out by them. Hatred was a scary word. Being uncomfortable wasn't, really.

Even though he knew he probably had nothing to be afraid of, that had never stopped him before. He closed his eyes, willing Spinner to just walk away.

"Scared of me?" he asked again, laughing slightly. In fact, he didn't seem to even sound angry anymore. He just sounded completely shocked that Marco was, indeed, slightly scared of him.

'No,' he told himself confidently. He was just afraid of his words, and how they were making him remember things he really didn't want to remember.

"_Are you afraid of me, Marco?"_

"_N-no," he denied, feeling him getting closer._

"Marco?" Spinner suddenly became worried, forgetting any problems he might have had with homosexuality after seeing Marco's face change the way it did.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Y-yeah," he said, shaking his head to rid the memories from his mind. That was actually a new one to him.

"I'm just going to—to go in," said Spinner. He really didn't want to stay with him anymore, feeling slightly responsible for the way Marco was acting.

Marco nodded, glad that he was leaving. He needed Dylan.

"Well, you said that one wouldn't hurt," said Dylan, swaying slightly on the spot. Mike shook his head, having had a bit too much to drink himself.

"Well, that's because you said you'd only _have _one. I can't be hel' respon…I can't be," Mike gave up on the word, sighing. "It's your fault."

"No," said Dylan.

Dylan and Mike were alone in the kitchen, due to the fact that the rest of the people in the room had decided to head to the more appropriate place. The living room. However, Dylan wished they had stayed. Maybe he could have prevented the couple of drinks he'd had. He hadn't really been counting, anyway, saying that he wouldn't go overboard.

But he always did. He promised himself that he wouldn't even have a sip because it always ended up the way it ended up at the party. He couldn't control his drinking. Ever. Not only that, but the worst part was he couldn't control the way he acted while drinking. Of course, that goes without saying; no one really can, but Dylan somehow managed to lose a lot of friends because of loss of temper. That was the main thing that happened to him when he drank: his ability to control his anger simply disappeared (anger that also happened to come of nowhere).

Mike had the same issue as Dylan. The difference was, Mike didn't really want to control it, so when Mike had made that proclamation, Dylan's parents had decided it would be better for the two not to hang around each other as much, which Dylan minded greatly at first, but after a while he realized, he and Mike didn't get along that well anyway.

The truth of the matter was, Dylan didn't even remember why, how, or when he started, but he knew that any chance he got, his hands were on that alcohol faster than anyone could take it away. His parents, since finding out about his little addiction, had kept him as far away from it as possible, and it was doing him well.

They didn't suspect Mike's arrival, nor did anyone else, and anybody at the party who actually noticed he was there, didn't care. Dylan knew he shouldn't have done it, especially after his family had worked so hard, not only keeping it from him, but also helping him with the needs.

Oh, but it had been so _long. _Yes, his family had done a good job and counseling was helping a hell of a lot, but _seeing _it again. Right there. At his reach. He couldn't handle it. And Mike knew it too.

"Dylan…" said Spinner, coming into the kitchen. Amazing. The first occupant back into the room. He thought it would have been Marco, but…damn, how long had he been outside?

"Um…I came in to tell you something, but I didn't realize he was here. Aren't you two, like, not supposed to," he hesitated, "like, be around each other?"

Apparently, the whole world knew that.

"Damnit, I'm 'onna go out for Marco," said Dylan, trying to walk past Spinner who seemed to be in his way.

"Move," he said angrily, surprised he'd even gotten the word out.

"Paige!" Spinner called. Dylan cursed. He knew bringing her in would be trouble. However, with the loud music, Paige was unable to hear him. Dylan, frustrated, pushed through Spinner, and walked outside.

Marco hadn't moved from where he'd been the entire time, but had his eyes closed when Dylan found him. Marco flinched when he heard the door opening. Dylan expected Spinner to follow him out, but he didn't. He suspected he was either having troubles with Mike or getting Paige.

"Who?" Marco asked, still not opening his eyes.

"Me," said Dylan.

"Okay," said Marco, still refusing to open his eyes, which made Dylan frown a bit in confusion. "I couldn't go in to look for you because I was afraid of, like, falling or something. I'm not used to this…uh…place. I can't feel my way around."

Dylan didn't really know why Marco was talking about that, so he just shrugged, almost falling himself, and sitting down next to him.

"You're drunk," he didn't ask, but told him, as though Dylan didn't wasn't aware.

Dylan simply laughed. "Huh?"

"I'm not an idiot, you know? And I would have gone back in there to talk to you and tell you what an idiot I think _you_ are, but…" he stopped, forcing himself to stand up, hoping there was something he could grab onto if he thought he was going to fall.

"—but, as you can see, I can't easily do that. So, thank you very much. I enjoyed being left out here scared…" he didn't want to say the word, but he truly had been of being alone and of being with Spinner.

Dylan really wasn't paying any attention to what Marco was saying, but he had focused on the part where Marco had called him an idiot. What right did he have?

"Where are you going?" Dylan asked, annoyed, seeing Marco feeling his way to the door.

"Where do you think? I am trying to go inside," Marco said calmly, trying to keep himself from getting angry. He was upset with Dylan for going in, leaving him there, drinking, but most of all, for making him scared again. He hadn't felt scared….well, he'd felt nervous lately, but actually scared…he hadn't had to feel that in a long time, and for someone like Dylan to be the one to scare him was just something he hadn't planned on.

He convinced himself that he would be able to forgive him once he got home, but at that moment, he was nothing but upset. The fear had worn off after Spinner had gone inside. Though, every bad thing for him seemed to have a good thing. What Spinner had said triggered a memory. Something he hadn't remembered at all. It had been said that night…the night Marco had no memories of at all. It both frightened and excited him that he remembered even just a few words from that night.

"Don't…don't say…" said Dylan slowly, his words not coming out right.

Marco was trying so hard to ignore him, to just get in the house, but he couldn't. Dylan was his perfect person. He made everything feel okay, and he was being forced to admit that his boyfriend had flaws. He didn't want to see the flaws, and he was planning on just running away from the flaws. If Dylan would stop talking, it would have been a lot easier to do.

He'd finally gotten his hand on the door when he turned around to face him. "Don't say what?" he asked, knowing it was probably a bad idea to say anything when he was so close to walking away.

"Idiot."

Marco rolled his eyes, unable to control himself. He turned back to the door, regretting the fact that he'd actually gone outside. He backed away, though, back towards Dylan because he heard the door opening.

"Dylan," said Paige, sounding serious, "come back inside. Now."

Dylan shook his head, happy that Marco hadn't gone in when she opened the door.

Marco took a deep breath, the fear setting back in. "Go inside," he said.

Hearing Paige order him around had obviously not bothered Dylan, but he didn't sound too happy with Marco for agreeing with her.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not--"

"Go," Marco interrupted, wanting to go in himself, "in."

"Marco," said Paige softly, obviously having dealt with Dylan before on these occasions, "he's just…"

"Stop!" said Dylan, irritated that Paige was talking about him as though he wasn't there. Marco and Paige seriously didn't want to stand out there with him while he was in that mood.

At that moment, Spinner stepped outside as well, and many of the people in the house started to realize something was wrong, as they crowded around the door.

Dylan wasn't too happy with the fact that people were standing there. He looked to Marco for help.

"Marco, you know I--"

"I don't know anything, Dylan," he protested, finally deciding it was time for him to go. He started to walk away, but Dylan grabbed onto his wrist. It didn't hurt, but he really wasn't in the mood for him, considering his behavior.

"Don't," he said, feeling himself lose control.

"Dylan," said Spinner, and Marco heard him walking up to them.

"No!" said Marco, not wanting any help from him. Spinner wasn't the person he really wanted to deal with either. "I can handle it." At the tone of Marco's voice, everyone backed off. Except Dylan.

"I'm going to see what the hell Mike is doing," whispered Paige to Spinner, walking into the house to prevent another problem from forming.

Marco said he could handle it, but he was close to losing his mind from all the pressure he'd been through in one night.

"Let go," he whispered, but knew Dylan was about to protest, so he pushed him away. It worked. At least, it worked in the way it was supposed to. Dylan did let go, but Marco felt himself being pushed back with a lot more force.

It's not as though it hurt that much, but it did cause him to lose his balance, and the push itself was a huge surprise because Dylan, at least, could have seen it coming. The blow had been extremely unexpected, mostly because he couldn't, literally, _see _it coming.

He sat down on the porch for a moment, vaguely wondering where Ellie was, since she had said she was going to be there. Maybe she'd decided against it.

"My hand," said Paige, as she had come back outside. Marco took the hand that was offered to him, after finding it, and allowed himself to be helped up.

"Marco…" said Dylan, not really knowing what to say, exactly. He had been angry, and still was, and hadn't really thought.

Marco followed Paige's footsteps into the house quickly, afraid to respond to Dylan, knowing whatever he did say wouldn't make Dylan happy. Honestly, he didn't want anything to upset Dylan at that moment. The scariest part of being pushed was that, if the others hadn't been watching, Marco feared he'd have done a lot worse.

Dylan didn't follow him, though. Fortunately.

"I'm going to walk you home, okay?" said Paige, not waiting for an answer. Though Marco wanted to decline, knowing it was her birthday, and she'd already been put through quite a bit, he didn't. He knew there really wasn't any other way he'd want to get home. Spinner wasn't an option. Dylan wasn't an option. He really didn't want to call his mother, seeing as she had dropped him off, and he preferred going home with someone who already knew what happened.

"Okay," he whispered, letting her walk him out the front door.

A/N: So, review? Please! I really hope you weren't disappointed with this. :)


	16. Fear is scary

A/N: As of today, (March 11, 2007) I am busy…very busy. By the end of March, I should be stress-free, as we have April break, until I have to start finals and all that. I will continue to update as much as possible because, oddly, when I'm busy, I usually find more time to write. Lol. I'm a strange person, so I really hope you like this chapter, and it always helps me to write faster when I get some reviews! (Hint!)

Marco got up for school the next morning, pulling out from his drawer any random articles of clothing. He wasn't in the mood to worry about how he might have looked. After getting dressed, not feeling hungry, he decided to lie down for the rest of the time until Cathy came to pick him up.

Marco honestly didn't know how he felt. He was hurt, of course, in more ways than one, and he definitely didn't want to have to be around Dylan for a while, not knowing how he'd react to the boy. When Paige had walked him home the night before, she knew better than to ask him questions, and Marco didn't ask her anything either. It was silent, which left him free to have thoughts. Marco didn't like thoughts.

"Marco," said his mother, knocking on his bedroom door, "are you ready?"

Marco shut his eyes tightly, wondering for a moment if he could get away with faking an illness. In the end, he realized that would be an even worse decision because everyone would know why he wasn't there, and they could talk, and he wouldn't be there to hear them. Bad idea.

"Yeah," he replied, "I'm coming, ma." His mother walked away from the door, sitting herself down in the kitchen again to wait for him.

Marco pulled himself off his bed, ignoring the sick feeling he had in his stomach just thinking about how the day was going to turn out. He reached his hand out toward the doorknob, finding it quickly, and walking out to the kitchen.

"Mornin'," he said softly, rubbing at his tired eyes.

His mother looked at him oddly. "Have you been crying?" she asked, concerned.

"No," said Marco, leaning against the counter for support. "Is Cathy on her way?" he asked, changing the subject.

"You don't look so good," his mother said, walking over to feel his forehead. Marco turned his head away from her.

"I'm fine," he said, irritated. "I'm just tired."

Mrs. Del Rossi, though not entirely believing him, gave in. "Why don't you have some cereal of something?" she suggested.

Marco thought about rejecting the offer, but she would have probably definitely sent him back to bed if he refused. He nodded his head. "Sure, thanks."

Mrs. Del Rossi poured him a bowl of cheerios, figuring that if he couldn't have a nice cooked meal, he could at least avoid the sugary cereals. Marco smiled gratefully, accepting the bowl she put down in front of him, and eating a spoonful every once in a while.

Dylan was obviously going to want to talk to him when he got to school. He always did, but with what happened, it would probably be more urgent, but Marco didn't want an apology. He didn't want to speak to Dylan at all.

Did he really want to lose him, though? Dylan had made him smile more than he'd ever recalled someone else doing.

However, forgiveness was something Marco was used to doing, and that didn't mean he was going to give it right away. Dylan didn't deserve it, did he? He had told Marco he had some problems, though, and technically Mike was the one who…

Why was he thinking like that? Dylan may have been drunk, but he still had upset him greatly. Yes, he'd said he had problems, but he'd also said that he would never give Marco a reason not to trust him.

Marco played with his food some more, giving up on eating it. His mother would have to deal with his loss of appetite because eating it made him feel worse. Even from the kitchen, he heard Cathy's car pull into the driveway.

"Ma, I'm going," he said, pushing his bowl away. He kissed her cheek, and walked out the door.

Cathy dropped him off in the usual fashion, letting him be alone with Ellie as they walked together into English class.

"I heard," said Ellie, shaking her head.

Marco fought the urge to scream. "What is with this school?" he asked rhetorically. "How, exactly, did you 'hear'?"

"Well," said Ellie, not offended by his anger, knowing he didn't mean to hurt her feelings, "people just talk. I'm so sorry, Marco."

Marco waved his hand, brushing off her apology. "Doesn't matter." Though, it definitely did.

When Ellie left Marco at his locker that day to go to her own, Marco really wanted to cry out in protest, tell her that he couldn't be alone with Dylan. But she probably wouldn't have even understood, and she'd have considered him to be too afraid of nothing. Only he could make sense of the fears he had.

Marco heard Dylan's footsteps approaching, right on time, but Dylan didn't say anything to make his presence known, so for all Marco knew, it could have even been Ellie. The only clue he might have had was that he could hear Dylan's footsteps from much farther away.

Marco could feel him standing there for a while as he pulled out his books from the locker, staring blankly into it, hoping he was pulling out the right books because he didn't want to ask Dylan. Besides, it's not like he could trust whatever he said.

They stood there in silence for a while, Marco's locker still hanging open, still unsure of what to take out.

"Marco," Dylan started, "I don't…I really don't know what to--"

"Say?" Marco finished for him. " Saying nothing would be a suitable choice, thanks." He continued to stare into his locker, taking a few slow breaths to calm himself.

"Well," said Dylan, "if it makes you feel any better, I'm in a lot of trouble and have a terrible hangover."

"That really doesn't, Dylan," said Marco, still praying Ellie would walk over, and hoping she didn't think he wanted to actually talk to Dylan.

Marco could feel the tears behind his eyes from the memory of the previous night. The last thing he wanted was Dylan to see him cry.

"I know it probably doesn't help, but I'm really really sorry," said Dylan, leaning against the locker next to Marco's, wishing he could erase what had happened just as much as Marco did. "I barely even remember doing it, actually."

"Dylan, please leave, so Ellie can help me with picking out my books," said Marco desperately.

"I can help you," said Dylan, offering as he always did.

Marco shook his head. "No, you can't."

Dylan sighed, running his hand swiftly through his hair. "Look, I know you probably hate me right now and everything, but I can help you with your books."

Marco tried not to get angry. "Dylan," he said slowly, using hand gestures as though speaking as he would to a child, "I do not trust you."

"With your books?" Dylan even had the audacity to laugh. "What the hell would I do with them? Why would I--"

"I don't really know," Marco answered, cutting him off, "but who knows why you do or say anything?" he said coldly, crossing his arms, and waiting for his departure.

"I know I deserve it, but I--"

"Dylan," said Ellie, stepping up behind him. Dylan smiled uneasily down at her, a smile that she didn't return. "Dylan, he wants you to go."

Dylan nodded, waiting just a moment before leaving, a part of him wondering if Marco would change his mind. When he decided that obviously wasn't going to happen, he walked quietly away.

"Math book," said Marco softly, banging his head against his locker.

"Don't do that," she pulled him away, "and here," she said, handing him the math book. Marco nodded silently, holding his arm out to be taken to the cafeteria, but quickly withdrawing it. Ellie looked at him, confused.

"I want to…I know I can't, but I want to try," he motioned with his hands a little bit, finally finding the words. "I don't want you to hold onto me."

"Okay," said Ellie slowly, "do you know where you're going?" she asked. Marco shook his head.

"Not a clue, but after today, I'm going to pay more attention to how many steps which way, touching the walls, and all that. I really," he sighed, "need to be more independent because I'm…it's not that I don't trust you."

"No, I understand," said Ellie.

"I just…after with Dylan…I don't know," he laughed, "I'm weird."

"Walk slowly, and I'll just tell you when you're going in the wrong direction," said Ellie, pushing him carefully in front of her. Marco did his best to ease his mind, not worrying about how he looked or where he was going.

'Be independent,' he thought to himself. Marco knew he could do it with Ellie so close to him, but the unknown people around him freaked him out. What if someone were to push him? Would he be able to prevent himself from falling? If he kept thinking thoughts like that, he would never be able to walk without someone holding his hand tightly. He wasn't a little child. He could make it. Besides, depending on people seemed to only bring him trouble.

"We're almost there," said Ellie, opening the doors to the cafeteria. "Good job," she said.

"Don't," said Marco.

"Right…right, sorry. You hate compliments. Heaven forbid." Ellie smiled guiltily. "Are you going to buy something with me?" she asked.

"I'm not really hungry," said Marco, shaking his head, and taking a seat at the table. Though Ellie was worried about his not eating, she shrugged it off, figuring he wouldn't want to be bothered by her questions.

"Marco," said Paige, sitting down across from him, and Marco could perfectly picture the look she was giving him just by the way she said his name, "I am so sorry." She truly sounded it too. She put down her tray in front of her, ignoring the food for a moment to finish off her conversation.

"It's okay," said Marco, avoiding her gaze, fearing she would hear in his voice that he was obviously not serious.

"No, it's not," she said immediately, as she had already been prepared for his exact answer. "It is not okay. I don't know how I can make up for what happened, but--"

"You didn't do it," he reminded her, wondering if any of the others at the table (excluding Spinner) had been at the party. Had they witnessed it or were they simply confused out of their minds?

"But I--"

"It wasn't your fault," said Marco, his tone saying that he wanted the conversation to end at that moment. Paige hadn't done anything wrong, and he would not accept her feeling she needed to apologize for her brother's deeds.

Paige sighed. "If you say so," she said softly, opening her water bottle.

After Paige's short interrogation was over, Marco was pretty much left to think by himself for a while until one of the table members decided to show up late.

"Do you hate me?" Spinner asked bluntly.

"I don't hate anyone," Marco answered, slightly glad that Spinner was feeling guilty even though he knew Spinner hadn't done anything wrong at the party.

"Are you mad, then?" he asked, not satisfied with any vague answers.

"I have more important things to worry about. Being angry with you occupies too much needed time," said Marco. "Dylan; however, is a different story."

Spinner nodded in agreement, finally taking his seat. "Must have hurt," he said. Marco knew he meant it in a much simpler way than it really hurt.

"More than physically," said Marco, wishing he could force himself to stop worrying so much about it. He and Dylan had only a few days together. The short thing they had couldn't have ended…did it?

Dylan was his dream boy. Unfortunately, dreams don't always come true, and perfection isn't real. Finding out that the boy you love…love? Where had that even come from? Finding out that the boy you are interested in more than anyone else has flaws really puts you down. This just happened to be a very large flaw.

It wasn't really the drinking problem that hurt so badly. Marco could deal with that. The push was painful because it could have been so much worse, but the main problem was Dylan didn't understand. Dylan didn't understand that the moment he pushed him one step two far, literally, Marco hadn't just lost his trust in him, but also in anyone else who was slowly gaining it including Ellie and Cathy. Dylan ruined it for them as well.

Marco remembered that Giulio, on one of his sober days, had once explained to him that after a night of drinking, he always wished he hadn't, and promised himself he wouldn't again. Apparently, though, it never worked. But Marco tried not to put Dylan and Giulio in the same category. Ever.

When it came down to that; however, Marco had forgiven Giulio when he didn't deserve it a bit. Because of Giulio, his sight was gone forever. He lost many nights of sleep because of him, had to lock the doors and windows twice because of him, but he still forgave him. So…why couldn't he forgive Dylan the same way?

_Because Dylan was different. _Forgiving Giulio hadn't actually taken a lot of his strength because after he'd done it, he was free from the pain and the anger. He didn't want to be around him, didn't have to be around him, so after forgiving him, he could move on with his life, but with Dylan…he wasn't going to be running away. It would be harder and, some might say, stupid. Well, even more stupid than forgiving Giulio.

_Because Dylan made him happy. _When he was around Dylan, (before he hurt him) everything awful in his life just seemed to disappear. He could be himself, (some of the time) not worrying about anything else. When he was with Dylan, he sometimes even forgot that Dylan had the advantage of sight. Almost.

_Because Dylan made him feel loved. _Oddly, it was true. He hadn't even realized it, not believing in any of that love at first sight, or in Marco's case, first sound, but that's because it wasn't. He and Dylan, crazy as it is, had fallen for each other in such a short period of time. At least, Marco had. No matter how Dylan felt for him, though, Marco hadn't cared at the time because since their friendship began, he'd made Marco feel like he mattered deeply to someone.

_Because he loved Dylan as well. _It was definitely a strange feeling to get used to and admit, but he did in every way. Maybe it was too soon to know, but even after he'd been pushed down…once again, literally, he'd still felt the strange urge to hug Dylan, and to tell him it was all okay.

_That's why Dylan wouldn't get it easy. He was too important to Marco. _So, that statement may seem a bit strange…

Marco was too afraid to give out his trust, but he trusted Dylan because he felt that he could put that powerful feeling into him, but Dylan betrayed that only a short time later. Marco had pretty much given up hope on Giulio and he ever being good friends again, but just 'getting along' wasn't going to work for Dylan and Marco. He needed to trust him completely, so that he could stand with him on the roof of a tall building, knowing that Dylan could easily push him off, as he wouldn't see him coming, and feel safe.

All Marco felt; however, was fear.

"Marco," said Ashley, taking him out of his thoughts, "are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he answered immediately, tapping his fingers on the table, desperately waiting for the day, or at least, the period, to end.

As soon as the thought had occurred, the bell rang, sounding loudly to let everyone know it was time for their next classes. Marco sighed, not sure if he was ready to survive another period. He grabbed his books from off of the table, and followed Ellie.

Marco had to get a way to tell time besides by looking at the clock because it obviously did him no good. He felt a lot better in class when he knew how long was left. After all, he hadn't thought about anything in class that day other than Dylan. Unfortunately, he didn't think Mr. Armstrong was testing them on that particular subject any time soon.

Finally, the bell for the last period rang, and Marco was free to go home. He knew he was going to have confrontations at his locker with a certain someone, but Ellie promised to be as quick as she possibly could.

"Marco!" Oh, well, speak of the devil. Dylan had managed to be quick just as Ellie said she was going to be. Obviously, he knew Marco was planning on running away from him.

"Please…let me talk. I ran here. Don't I get a minute to speak?" Dylan asked, sounding desperate.

Marco shrugged. "I can't stop you from speaking," he replied, focusing on his locker.

"Math book is thicker," he mumbled to himself, putting it in his bag.

"Well, there's no point in talking if you're not going to listen," said Dylan, practically whining. Marco wouldn't have been surprised if he began to stamp his foot in irritation.

"Glad you got the point," said Marco. Once again, he held back tears. He didn't like treating people the way he was treating Dylan, but he sort of felt it was necessary.

"Marco…" **Where was Ellie?**

"Dylan…" said Marco, only slightly mocking him, determined not to give in.

Dylan sighed, and Marco could almost picture the look on his face, trying to imagine what his actual face looked like to begin with.

"I never drink," said Dylan. "I stopped."

Marco almost laughed. "Well, you could have fooled me."

"I mean," Dylan sounded frustrated, putting his hand on his forehead, "I haven't…in so long, and yesterday, I did, but I won't anymore."

"Then, why would you last night?" Marco asked. "I mean, if you were planning on never doing it again, I don't get why--"

"I'm sorry," said Dylan. "I am so sorry."

"Let me ask you something," said Marco, taking a deep breath. "Did you think to yourself, 'I haven't done this in forever, so tonight, it would be completely okay to get myself wasted'? Is that what you thought?"

"No," said Dylan slowly.

"Did you think, 'Marco will appreciate this'? Did you think about me at all, Dylan?" he asked.

"No," said Dylan, "but, I don't really know what I was thinking, actually."

"I have a strong feeling that you weren't thinking, Dylan, and that's kind of my point."

"Can I apologize again?" he asked, really not knowing what else to do.

"Hey," said Ellie, arriving slightly later than Marco would have hoped, but not so that he was unpleased with her arrival.

"No," said Marco, answering Dylan's question instead of greeting his friend. "I really don't need you to waste anymore of my time."

Ellie smiled, showing her approval. She walked alongside him, practicing their new way of walking, without her arm attached to his.

"Marco, wait," said Dylan, taking hold of his arm lightly.

"Don't touch me!" Marco screamed, unsure of where it had come from. He was well aware of the many people staring after he had lost control, Ellie being one of them. He could always feel it.

Dylan quickly withdrew his arm, shocked, to say the least. Marco didn't think he'd ever screamed so loud or forcefully in his life, and the power of it made any passer by think that Marco was being murdered.

If any of the students were worried about missing buses or worrying parents, they didn't show it because they all stood to watch the outcome of whatever was happening before their eyes.

Marco was ashamed to see that his hands were shaking causing him to drop his bag, and he knew that he was crying, but it somehow felt worse than anger at Dylan. He knew he had been _slightly _afraid around him, but his own reaction proved that he was plainly terrified.

"Please," Marco found himself begging, instead of screaming, angry with himself for letting the fear overpower his anger. "Please…just leave me alone."

Ellie shot a horribly dirty look at Dylan, who didn't utter a word, and she helped Marco walk, without any objection, to Cathy's awaiting car outside.

A/N: Please review. I need the reviews to keep me going through the week and to make the next chapter come up faster.


	17. Promise

A/N: I'm going to try to get as many chapters posted within the next couple of days before everything gets even busier. I don't like being busy; it's not fun. I hope you like this chapter, and if you don't, I understand, and also promise that the next chapters will be exciting. Lol. Please enjoy and review :)

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Ellie, as Marco got himself into the car.

Marco nodded, refusing to say anything, still shocked at the emotions inside of him. Seriously, was he going insane?

Ellie smiled sadly at Cathy, walking in the other direction to meet her bus.

"Is everything okay?" Cathy asked. She'd probably noticed the obvious fact that he was shaking uncontrollably.

"No," he replied, not even bothering to lie. Everything was absolutely not okay.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked, gently laying her hand on Marco's shoulder. Marco shrugged away from her grasp, visibly wincing at the touch.

"Don't," he whispered, attempting to justify his action.

"All right," she said, sounding a bit defensive, turning back to the road in front of her.

Not a moment too soon, Cathy pulled up in his driveway. Marco was glad he was going to be able to be alone.

"Sorry," he whispered, feeling guilty. Even if he hadn't snapped at her, he still might have hurt Cathy's feelings.

"No problem," she smiled, hoping to reassure him.

Marco walked into his house, calling out his mother's name as the door slammed behind him. He still hadn't gotten used to the fact that his mother worked later now that she was alone. The minute he realized he could be completely alone just to have some time to relax, the phone rang. He sighed.

"Hello," answered Marco, his hands still slightly shaking, which angered him.

"Before you hang up on me, I knew you wouldn't ever pick up your cell phone if you thought it might be me," said the other voice extremely quickly, barely giving Marco a second to even register who it was.

"I have to deal with you at my locker, Dylan," said Marco, feeling a slight urge to simply throw himself out a window, "but I don't want to have to do it here." He really had no more patience with Dylan, but he was glad he wasn't close enough for him to fear what he could do to him.

"Marco, your um…scream, well, I can't stop thinking about it. Please, talk to me." Dylan was eventually going to resort to pleading on his knees.

"I just…I can't," Marco replied, though he still hadn't hung up the phone, so he must not have been as eager to leave as even he thought he was. He carried the phone to the living room couch. "Dylan, it's…I want you to understand."

"I do," said Dylan.

"No, you don't," said Marco, "because I don't even fully get it, so there's no way you do." He rolled his eyes. "I know I haven't known you for long, Dyl, but you're the only thing—person in my life that actually makes sense. At least, you were."

"Marco, I'm sorry. I know that you know that, but I made a huge mistake, and I would like to fix it," said Dylan, biting his lip, hoping for a second chance.

"I'm kind of glad you made that mistake, though," said Marco, changing his position on the couch so that he was lying down on his stomach. "You see, it made me realize that I'm not over everything, I shouldn't trust people, and that I'm still afraid."

"Marco," Dylan started, shaking his head, ashamed at what Marco had said he'd made him realize, "you should trust people, no matter what I do, and you shouldn't be afraid."

"I don't care what you think!" Marco yelled again, albeit not as hysterical as the scream in the hallway. "You're the reason I am scared. I am shaking, Dylan. I am physically shaking, and that's not right." Though it had sounded good to say, Marco wished he hadn't said it. Dylan would think he was even weaker than he'd probably already thought him.

Dylan, however, didn't think about his strength or weakness. "You're afraid of me?" he asked.

"Of course!" Marco said, not realizing Dylan was that dense when it came to such topics. "I mean, the hallway thing…my practically jumping away from you. I'm shaking. What do these signs tell you?"

"I didn't even realize…" said Dylan softly, seriously surprised. "Marco, I've never…I'm so sorry," he repeated, not knowing any other way for Marco to see how sorry he truly was. The conversation they'd had, before he drank, came back to his mind. How could he have been so incredibly idiotic?

"I never want you to feel afraid," said Dylan.

"It's a bit too late for that," Marco replied, looking up when he heard the door close.

"Hello," said his mother happily, and Marco felt his heart rise. Had he really thought someone was breaking into the house? Paranoia was a horrible feeling.

"Hi," he said, letting out a slow breath of air he'd been holding.

"Hi?" Dylan asked, confused.

"Mom," Marco said simply.

Dylan nodded. "Okay," he said, knowing Marco couldn't see his gesture through the phone. "Listen, I know it's too late for changing what I did, but can I make it better?"

"No," Marco answered quickly.

"I need you to forgive me in order for me to be able to get better, Marco."

"I will forgive you," said Marco, "for what you did, but that doesn't make me put it in the past. I can't help being afraid of you and…pain. It's never far from me, Dylan."

"Let me try and restore your trust," Dylan begged. It wasn't just about getting Marco back anymore because that might have been a lost cause, but it was about returning Marco's faith, trust, happiness, and anything else that might have been lost before and after Dylan arrived in his life. When Dylan met Marco, it had been his job to make Marco more trusting, but he'd only made it worse. It wasn't about he and Marco anymore; it was about simply Marco.

"I just…I wish…"

"Marco," said his mother, walking out of the kitchen, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I do need the phone."

"I have to go," said Marco, not bothering to mention the cell phone choice, and hoping Dylan didn't think of it. "You want to try and 'restore my trust', you don't need my permission to do that. Bye."

After Marco hung up, Dylan was left to think about all that Marco had said. He needed to do something that would change what he did, but also what his cousin had done, and basically anyone else who had hurt him in the past. In order to gain back Marco's trust, he definitely had a difficult job to do.

He hadn't been lying when he told Marco that he was in serious trouble for what he'd done. Though, in telling their parents, Paige had conveniently left out the part about what happened with Marco, but for the drinking, he was in serious trouble. He deserved it, of course. If his feelings for Marco alone couldn't make him stop drinking, there was a slim chance anything else would.

But he had been given the best guy in the world! He had literally been 'given' Marco, he believed. Why else would it happen that a boy who was extremely unhappy with himself had just arrived at Degrassi, (who just happened to be gay) needing help, and extremely interested in Dylan? Besides, it had happened at a time where Dylan really wanted a guy…not that he couldn't live without one at the time…but, anyhow, he'd been pleasantly surprised when he found himself falling for him, and even more surprised when he found Marco was falling as well. Hell, maybe he did believe in soul mates. Whatever the case, he'd had the most amazing boy in the world, and he'd screwed it up… Things like that seemed to occur in Dylan's life.

He turned over, dropping his cell phone precariously on the floor, sighing. He could do it. Bringing someone's faith and trust in the world back after it had been lost from everyone couldn't have been too hard, could it?

"I'm sorry!" Dylan screamed, talking mainly to his ceiling. He heard his sister laughing softly in her room, though, which meant that not only his ceiling had heard.

"He can't hear you, brother," said Paige sensibly.

"You know what," he yelled back, getting up from the bed, "I'm going over there."

Dylan pulled on his shoes, tying the laces quickly, as he wanted to get out of the house as fast as possible. He wasn't really sure if he was _allowed _to go out, and he also wasn't sure about showing up at Marco's house, and how he'd react. However, he didn't have time to think or consider the consequences. He was going.

Dylan opened the front door, hearing his sister's call of good luck from her bedroom. She wanted Marco to be happy just as much as he did. He walked down the stairs leading down from his porch, and jumped into his car.

"I'll get it!" Marco called out to his mother, knowing she'd try to protest, claiming that it was much easier for her. He was right next to the door, so he threw it open calmly.

"Marco," said Dylan, "you said you couldn't stop me from trying."

Marco stood there for a moment. "I don't…all right, come in," he sighed, figuring he'd lose the battle anyway.

Dylan stepped into the house, smiling somewhat, remembering that he had really nothing at all to say.

"I still, uh, love this house," said Dylan conversationally, feeling dumber and more uncomfortable by the second.

"Yeah, sure," said Marco, crossing his arms, his eyebrow raised. "I do hope that's not what you came over here to say…" he said, ashamed when he felt a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't going to give in. What would Dylan assume if he saw Marco smiling at him? Damn, he was paranoid.

"Marco, you're amazing," Dylan started, making more up as he went along, not used to not having a conversation planned. "I mean, you make me so happy," he said softly.

Marco didn't make a sound, but Dylan saw disbelief clearly written across his face.

"Ma," he said loudly. She came out of her room, smiling at Dylan, having heard nothing about what happened between the two. Dylan looked confused. "Can you…maybe hang around the kitchen or something?" asked Marco, hoping she wouldn't be irritated.

"Sure," she didn't look annoyed, but slightly confused. Marco thanked her. He shrugged, feeling Dylan's eyes on him.

"Want her around…" he muttered, signaling for Dylan to go on.

Dylan's heart dropped yet again. Marco was afraid to talk to him while his mother was on the other side of the house. He really was so afraid of what Dylan would do to him. He wouldn't hurt him. Didn't Marco see that?

"Would you believe it if I told you I loved you?" said Dylan.

"No," Marco said immediately, not sounding angry any longer, "I wouldn't."

"Well, it's true, but I respect your opinion. Marco, can you at least trust that I won't hurt you again?" he asked.

"No, I wish I could, Dylan. Do you think I like feeling paranoid and being afraid of every little thing all the time?" said Marco, quickly losing his ability to control himself.

"I guess not," Dylan replied, sitting down on the couch. Marco continued to stand, as usual, pacing the floor in front of Dylan. "Marco, I haven't been drinking…" said Dylan, waiting for some kind of response from Marco. "And you don't have to be afraid of me."

"So, you're saying, when you drink, I'm allowed, but when you don't--"

Dylan cut him off. "I won't anymore," he said confidently. "If I can't stop after one drink, I won't even have one anymore," said Dylan, reaching out to gently take his hand, preparing himself for the rejection.

Marco didn't move his hand away, but his body did make some involuntary shudders as he calmly thought to himself that his mother was less than four feet away, and though she couldn't see them from her position, she'd be out there in an instant if he made a sound.

"Do you want to pay me back, Marco?" asked Dylan. "Is that what you want? Because you can hit me, push me, whatever makes you feel better."

"That's not what I want," Marco replied, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left, trying to ignore Dylan's hand in his in any way he could. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, and he was going to be brave.

"Then, what _do _you want," asked Dylan, perfectly happy to give Marco anything he asked for.

"You," said Marco bluntly, "but not this you," he corrected himself. "I want to be with the Dylan who makes me so happy, and jokes around all the time, but is obsessed with helping me, which bothers the hell out of me, of course, but still makes me happy that he cares, but I'm not sure if he exists," Marco admitted, feeling emotional again.

"Maybe," said Dylan, "I could bring him back for you, with your help, of course because he's still here." He cleared his throat. "He's still here, but he screws up a lot, just so you're aware."

Marco laughed despite the fact that he'd been trying not to let himself be charmed. "I am well aware, thanks for your concern," he said, smiling.

Dylan smiled too, but then it faded just as quickly as it had arrived. "Am I forgiven?" he asked, almost too surprised.

"I already told you, I want that Dylan back, but Dyl, I can't trust…that's not going to change," he let him know carefully.

"Maybe it will."

"It won't," said Marco, not a second thought in mind. "I will remain completely," he whispered, hoping his mother couldn't perfectly hear him, "and utterly scared of you and everyone else. As for forgiveness, change this for me."

"The drinking?" he asked.

"Yes," said Marco, "the drinking. If I'm so important to you, you can do that for me. Since you seem so interested in my trust, maybe you can make a promise now that you won't break."

"I won't ever hurt you… again," said Dylan, sincerity showing clearly in his voice.

Marco nodded, ashamed that he was letting himself be swept away. "We'll see about that."

"Can I kiss you, then?" Dylan asked, still not sure what Marco was allowing.

"May you?" Dylan nodded. "I…suppose," said Marco, closing his eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you. That's a promise. If I keep that…you can trust me a little more?" he laughed.

Marco, too, laughed, waiting. Finally, he felt Dylan kiss him softly, and before he knew it, his lips were gone again.

"I don't know how I feel or what I'm ready for," said Marco, "but don't give up."

"You don't either," said Dylan.

A/N: I really don't know. What did you think? Please review. I'm quite self-conscious about this one. Oh, and by the way, I'm reading a really really good book called, When Jeff Comes Home. I recommend it to any of you!


	18. Tape

Author's Note: Chapter 18! Wow…this is getting pretty long :) The previous chapter wasn't my favorite, but it needed to be there for this one. I hope you all enjoy this! Yay! Please review.

Marco's mother once told him that, in order to understand love, you need to have your heart broken. He didn't know if that was necessarily true for all people, but it definitely proved true for Marco. He never understood how much Giulio meant to him until he decided their 'friendship' was over, and the Dylan situation pretty much goes without any explanation.

So, was it love Marco felt for Dylan? Was it possible for the boy to fall so hopelessly for another that he had known for only the short period of two months? Marco supposed that if age didn't matter, size didn't matter, and background didn't matter, then the amount of time you had known a person didn't matter either. Love was love. Maybe, then, he was in love.

Marco's heart was certainly broken along with many other feelings in him he'd been trying to hold onto, but there was nothing a little glue couldn't fix, right? Maybe tape? Yes, tape. Dylan was like his tape.

Five days had passed since the talk Marco and Dylan had had over at Marco's house, and things were pretty much the same way they had been. Dylan spoke to Marco at the usual hours. The only difference was, Marco refused Dylan's offers to drive him home unless another person came with them. Only once had Ellie not been able to ride with them, so he'd called Cathy in advance, saying he was going to need a ride home. Though Dylan was hurt, and wished Marco could trust him, he knew better than to push him, making things even worse.

Marco finished dressing himself for the school day, smiling as he ran his hands over his shirt, and recognizing which one it was.

He walked out into the kitchen, not at all surprised that his mother was in there. "Hello," he said cheerfully, picking up his bag from one of the chairs at the table.

"Good morning," she said, happy that he was. "Cathy is here already?" she asked. Marco nodded. "You are not going to eat?"

Marco shook his head. "Sorry. I'm just really not even hungry." He leaned over, and kissed her cheek. "Bye."

Marco walked out to the car, knowing exactly where Cathy parked, where the handle would be, and plopped down on the chair securely.

"Know your way around, huh?" she said, sounding impressed. "I should time you," she laughed.

"Yeah," said Marco, not bothered on that particular morning that she was treating him, once again, like she was so awed by his accomplishments. Usually, it made him feel like a child singing the alphabet. That morning, it made him feel kind of proud.

Marco hugged Ellie the moment he'd met up with her at the door of the classroom. She was surprised, but returned the hug whole-heartedly.

"He's happy today," said Cathy, laughing. "I'll pick you up, Marco?"

Marco nodded, allowing her to leave. Marco smiled, walking with Ellie into the classroom.

"Hey, man," said Spinner, biting his lip, unsure if Marco wanted to have anything to do with him. Had their friendship been repaired?

"Hi, Spinner," said Marco, not sounding too fussed. He was having a good morning.

And just like that, Spinner and Marco were friends again. It didn't matter what bigoted words he'd spouted at him because he was sorry, and Marco had realized, that was all that truly mattered. Dylan was sorry. Therefore, he was stopping alcohol forever. A heartfelt apology seemed to turn Marco's feelings around for everyone. He was still scared, of course. That wasn't a question, but the question was: Could you love someone who you feared? Was that possible?

"I'll be back," said Ellie, as usual, going to her locker.

Marco put away the books he didn't need, and carefully pulled out the ones he did. He was beginning to become surer, thanks to his new reading techniques, which were which. With that, it was much easier. He could trust himself.

"Hey," said Dylan. He made sure to say hello a few feet before he arrived to give Marco time to prepare.

"Hello, Dylan," he said, happier than he had been in a long time. His fingers barely even shook when Dylan got closer. Improvement felt nice.

"Need help?" he asked instinctively.

Marco shook his head. "You should know that by now," he said, closing the locker, but his smile didn't fade.

Dylan nodded. "So…you're going to lunch?" he asked, already quite aware that lunch was where Marco was heading.

"Yes…" said Marco, surprised at the sudden awkwardness.

"So, you still want me to drive you home?" he asked, remembering that Ellie had to stay after school. "I'm sorry," he apologized, seeing the nervous look in Marco's eyes, "I know you probably…"

"That'd be nice," said Marco. "Thank you." He spoke the words surely and easily, but he felt anything but secure.

"Really?" said Dylan, taken aback, but pleased. "I'll meet you here, then, after school." Marco laughed at his utter excitement.

"Very late," Marco reminded, and Dylan turned around to run off to Media Immersions.

"Ellie, right on time," said Marco.

"You're getting really good at that!" she commented.

"You never really pay attention to the differences in the way people walk until it's the only way to know who's with you," he said, shrugging.

"You could just ask," Ellie laughed, opening the cafeteria door for him.

"And you could just lie," he showed his lack of trust again, which always put Ellie in a rather poignant mood.

"Why," Marco questioned himself as he put away his books at the end of the day, awaiting Dylan's arrival, "did I agree to this? It was a horrible idea!" He exclaimed, hoping students that passed by didn't think he was out of his mind.

"I am not ready to be alone," he whispered, hitting himself on the head with his math textbook, "with him in his car. It is a bad combination."

"And, also—"

"Marco," said Dylan, just as he had closed his locker, "talking to yourself?" he asked.

"Hear anything?" said Marco.

"No…are you—"

"I'm fine," he answered quickly, cracking his knuckles, a nervous habit he'd had when he was younger that still came back from time to time.

"Ready to go, then?" he asked, seeing Marco was standing there with his locker closed. Obviously, he was ready.

Marco nodded, though his legs didn't seem to want to take him anywhere. It was okay. Dylan wasn't going to hurt him again. Everything was all right. Why couldn't he just walk?

"Marco?" said Dylan tentatively, trying not to worry about how distressed Marco seemed. Marco sighed.

"I'm fine," he said, once realizing Dylan noticed his fear.

"Are you sure? I mean, if you're too nervous, that's okay, but—"

"Dylan, I am fine, really," he forced a smile, and his legs finally began to move. He followed Dylan out to his car.

"Dylan," he said softly, as he leaned back against the seat.

"Yes?" asked Dylan, starting the car.

"Nothing," he replied, looking out the window. It sounded silly to say he just needed to be assured Dylan was with him. It was funny how some moments, he felt afraid that Dylan would hurt him, but others, he felt that he needed Dylan there to protect him, and had to be sure he wouldn't abandon him. Of course, he knew neither one was going to happen, but sometimes he just needed reassurance.

Marco and Dylan didn't speak for a few moments, and though Marco usually found silence peaceful, he started to feel restless, and had too many bad thoughts in his head. He hated being so scared. He hated it. There was no reason for it, and he had to stop.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dylan asked. "You seem…jumpy."

"Oh," said Marco, way too quickly, "I just, I'm fine."

Dylan resisted the urge to laugh because he knew it was more serious to Marco than it seemed to him. Marco really wasn't feeling right with the circumstances.

"I'm just taking you home," said Dylan. "Once you're there, you can lock the door." He didn't mean for it to sound bitter, but he was afraid Marco would take it that way, so he continued. "I promise I won't hurt you. I'm just taking you home."

Marco nodded, unable to really say anything. He subconsciously tapped his knees with his fingers, waiting for the ride to be over, yet somehow enjoying Dylan's presence.

_He subconsciously tapped his knees with his fingers, waiting for the ride to be over, yet somehow enjoying Giulio's presence, considering he didn't get to be with him very often anymore._

"_My mom told you to bring me home from school, not interview me," he said spitefully._

_Riding with Giulio was always interesting especially when Marco felt he was under the influence. Oh, he had found out after a few minutes that he definitely was. Drunk, that is. He smelled of it, and every few minutes, he'd say nonsensical things. Marco was seriously surprised that they hadn't crashed! Why did Marco get in the car with his hateful drunk cousin? Truthfully, the only other choice was to explain to his parents that Giulio was a drinker, and he wouldn't ever betray a family member like that. The things people do for love. However, somehow, they'd survived the ride. Miracle._

"Seriously, Marco, we're almost to your house," said Dylan, gently touching his shoulder, but quickly retreating. Was he permitted to touch him?

Marco ignored him, breathing deeply. No. He wasn't going to compare Dylan to Giulio again. The fact that he was tapping his legs and felt the same little emotions didn't mean anything. Besides, Dylan wasn't drunk like he pretty much knew Giulio had been. He wouldn't hurt him again. He had promised.

"Marco?" said Dylan. Marco waved his hand in Dylan's direction, showing he had heard him, and he was fine. Dylan fell silent, watching the road again.

"_This is my house, and I don't want to be tortured in it!" Marco screamed, pushing an extremely angry Giulio away from him._

"_Marco, I'm not… I don't wanna' torture you!" he laughed in such a sardonic way that Marco wanted to punch him in the face. Though, doing that wasn't such a good choice. Giulio may have been at a slight disadvantage with his slow reflexes due to being wasted, but he was still a lot stronger and braver than Marco when it came to fighting._

"_Stop," Marco begged, as Giulio had begun to throw things, not necessarily at Marco, but all around._

"_What is wrong with you?" _

"_What is wrong with you, Marco?" asked Giulio, coming closer, nearly falling right in front of him._

_Marco's mother had asked Giulio to drive Marco home, simply because she was staying late at work. Weren't things always so convenient? _

_Giulio laughed at Marco's feebleness. "Just go away," Marco begged, having gone from irritated to slightly fearful. Giulio really would stop at nothing._

_Giulio had basically destroyed the living room, and Marco looked at the floor in distaste. He'd have to clean all that glass up. He'd have to explain to his mother why her favorite precious heirlooms were scattered on the floor in pieces. He may have even chosen to take the blame for it. _

Marco shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. Had that really happened? He was experiencing a memory, but had that really happened? He sort of realized he didn't want to know anymore. He didn't care anymore. After all those nights he wished he remembered, he didn't _want _to remember anything! He prayed for it to stop, but it wouldn't.

"_Why do you want to hurt me?!" he screamed. "How does that make you feel better?" Marco had tears running down his face. He'd never actually been in a physical fight before, and the one he was fighting was mostly one-sided. _

_Giulio had done absolutely everything he could to attack him, using any means necessary that were in Marco's living room. Throwing plates, punches, pushing, holding Marco down…it was all part of his strange plot to kick the gay out of him._

_Giulio stood up, letting go of his younger cousin, giving him a chance to get up, but Marco didn't dare to move. He planned on staying in that one spot until he hopefully died from his emotions taking over._

"_Aww, come on, now, Marco! Don't be a baby! Fight me…" he urged. "'Want you to."_

_Marco didn't care what in the world Giulio 'wanted' him to do at that moment. He wanted an escape or **something. **And, cursed would be he if he admitted it, he wanted his mother so badly._

_Giulio sighed, going over to the mantle. Marco couldn't bear to watch. What was he doing? _

_Giulio walked back over to him, as Marco laid his head down to the floor, halfway lying on his stomach and halfway kneeling. He couldn't even make sense of his ridiculous position. He just didn't want to see Giulio's face when he did whatever he was planning to do._

"_Hey, Marco," said Giulio, "I thought your parents were splittin'," he oddly changed the topic._

"_Yeah," said Marco, really not in the mood to talk about such a topic._

"_Who is staying in the house?" he asked._

"_Probably my mo…why?" _

"_Isn't this, like, your dad's prized baseball __bat__?" he asked, smirking. "Aluminum…very expensive… Apparently, it can help anyone win a game. Your dad cares more about this than he probably does about you," he laughed._

_Marco closed his eyes, not stupid. He knew what was going to happen. "You think he'd mind if I use it?" asked Giulio. "I'd try not to get it too dirty…"_

"Marco…Marco…" Marco opened his eyes, hearing Dylan's voice. How long had he been saying his name?

"Oh my gosh…what's wrong?" he asked, seeing the tears slowly falling down Marco's face.

"I just…I don't," Marco didn't know how to say it, so he grabbed onto Dylan's shirt tightly, hoping he'd understand his message. Dylan held him close to his body, after realizing Marco wasn't going to scream out for his touching him. He obviously wanted it.

"Dylan," he cried harder, burying his face in his shoulder, "I just…I don't want to be so…I don't know."

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed. "It's all right, Marco."

"No, it's not!" he said, outraged. "I want to be so close to you, and I want you to help me to get better with things…but then, I want you to stay as far away as possible because of what could happen. I don't want a relationship where I have to worry about what you're going to do to me all the time. Damnit, I can't even _see _what you do!"

Dylan didn't respond or protest. He just let Marco scream out all that he needed to say. They had long since arrived in Marco's driveway, but Dylan didn't think Marco knew nor cared. His only clue might have been that they had stopped moving.

"I don't think you realize how horrible it feels to wake up every morning, and remember what you used to see…and now you see nothing when you open your eyes. You don't realize the freaky phenomenon of meeting someone, but having no idea what they look like, and knowing you never ever will." Marco knew he was complaining about things that Dylan really didn't have anything to do with, but he needed to get all of his anger out.

"You also don't know how scary it is to know that someone is right next to you…and they could do anything, Dylan, but you wouldn't be able to stop it. You don't know how it feels to think about something every moment of every hour of every day of every week of every month since it happened. You don't know what it feels like to not remember a night…. and then have little pieces of it in your mind haunting you all of your days and nights. Finally, I remember what happened," he pulled himself off of Dylan's shoulder, rubbing at his eyes, sensing it was no use because the tears kept coming, "but I don't want to anymore."

Dylan wanted to say something, but he didn't know what was appropriate for the situation. He also didn't know if he was really supposed to reply to that. Maybe it was just Marco's need to get his thoughts spoken aloud.

However, he continued with one more statement, speaking in monotone "You don't know what it feels like to wish you had died that night, and yet you keep on living."

Dylan definitely had nothing to say. He felt like crying himself, though he didn't. (Fortunately.) But how could Marco wish that he were dead? That he had been killed? Dylan sighed, looking over at Marco who was staring blankly ahead at the windshield.

"I don't," said Dylan, as an answer to all of those statements about what he 'didn't realize' or understand. It was true. He didn't.

Marco didn't answer, too absorbed in his own world to hear what Dylan was saying.

"_Please, DON'T!" Marco screamed, knowing it was no use. He just didn't want to deal with him anymore. He wanted Giulio to go. He'd done enough damage._

"_Begging?" he asked, laughing._

"_I'm sorry," said Marco, fresh tears mixing with the dried ones along his cheeks. "I'm sorry for being this way. Please…I'm so sorry."_

"_And I'm sorry for…" he choked, not having anything else to say to show what he was sorry for, "for…telling you," he said honestly, "and ruining our friendship." It made Marco angry that he was sorry for those things even though they weren't his fault._

"_I'm sorry I have to hurt you, then," said Giulio, no longer smiling, not frowning, or showing anger, just a straight face that said he didn't care about what he was going to do._

_Marco felt it come down hard once, and he cried out in pain. What was he supposed to do? Let it happen. The metal came down harder the second time, and that was it._

"Do you want to go inside?" he asked Marco softly, running his hand gently along his arm.

Marco nodded, but didn't go anywhere. "Walk with me?" he asked.

"Sure," said Dylan, walking to the side of the car, and taking Marco's hand. They walked together to Marco's front door.

"All right, I have to go," said Dylan.

Marco nodded. "Stop drinking?" he said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I'm working on it," said Dylan, leaning over to hug Marco, which Marco responded to immediately, as though he had been waiting for it. He held onto Dylan for dear life.

"Don't ever scare me again," Marco whispered into his ear, warning evident in his voice.

"I won't," said Dylan, pulling out of the embrace only to have better access to Marco's lips. He leaned forward, kissing him soundly. Marco smiled into the kiss.

There had been days since the incident where he'd wanted to die, and mostly, that was still true. Every morning when he got up, the first thought was usually, 'If I have this impairment, life isn't worth it, anymore. Giulio couldn't have been nice, and just ended it?' However, even if the thought was still in there, a new thought was starting to replace it due to the breathtaking kiss.

He had a reason to live.

"Dylan," he started, staring into the older boy's eyes, wishing he could see how beautiful he presumed they were.

"Yes?" he asked, running his thumb along Marco's cheek, glad his tears had stopped cascading.

"Thank you for being my tape."

Author's Note: Please review! It kind of sounds like the end, doesn't it? It's not:)


	19. I Feel Your Smile

A/N: Enjoy! I'm sorry this one took me so long. I've been incredibly busy!

"Your tape?" Dylan laughed, still tightly holding Marco's hands in his own.

"Yes," said Marco, not offering an explanation, but simply kissing him again. He'd been through so much, and he was finally happy.

"So, you have to go," Marco reminded him, pointing out to the driveway without turning his head.

"Right," said Dylan, not moving. He shook his head, remembering that he had other things to do besides stare at Marco. "Bye," he said, kissing his cheek, and letting go.

Marco smiled, letting him walk back to his car. When he heard the car pull out, and he was sure Dylan was close to the end of the block, he opened the front door. He immediately went to his bedroom, picking up his ringing cell phone as he threw open his bedroom door.

"Hello," he said, sitting down on his bed.

"Marco," came the voice of his father, marking his first phone call since the first day of Marco's school year.

"Hey, dad," he said, his cheerful voice disappearing as stress flowed again through his veins. "What's going on?"

"Your aunt and uncle are moving back into their house," said his father, "and it's just me again."

Marco nodded, realizing that, for the first time, he didn't feel any pity for his father. He'd gotten himself into that situation. "Okay," he said simply. "Things are good here," said Marco, surprised at the emotion he was feeling. Was he trying to rub it in?

"Good, I guess," said his father, sounding shocked as well at how uncaring Marco sounded.

Marco no longer cared what his father thought about him, and sadly, Marco's entire view of him had changed.

"I have a boyfriend," he said, not thinking. For some reason, it had seemed like the right thing to say.

His father merely grunted in response, apparently not so keen on the thought of having a conversation about the 'boyfriend' mentioned.

"And he's amazing," Marco continued, feeling slightly that he was bragging or intentionally bothering his father.

"Okay," said Mr. Del Rossi, not clearly showing how he felt about it.

"And I love him," he said, which definitely threw his father off guard.

"You are fifteen!" he said, appalled. "You have no idea what that word means!"

Marco rolled his eyes, having heard that enough in many movies to be able to deal with it.

"You're a divorced forty-one year old, do you know?" Marco hadn't realized how loud he had spoken until he heard his mother's gasp from the other room. Mr. Del Rossi was silent, hesitant to answer that. It was obvious to him that his son had changed quite a bit. In previous arguments, Marco would have let his father tell him he was wrong, and he would have taken it all in cooperatively. But it was not like old times.

Marco didn't feel the need to be treated like dirt, and he wanted to fight back from that moment on. He'd respected his father for far too long, assuming that, just because he was family, he deserved it, but his father had proved that wasn't true. He had never earned his son's love and respect. He'd simply stolen it, too careless to actually pay the price.

"You should not speak to me that way," he said after a few minutes of nothing.

"I don't care," Marco whispered. "Dad, I'm sick and tired of trying to make you proud because nothing I ever do is good enough. Not living with you…it's—it's hard for me to admit I'm angry, but I am. I'm so angry and hurt, and you never even took notice," he finished, happy that he had said it. That small part of him that always wished he could take what he said back was gone.

"Marco," said his father, thinking of what to say, but finding himself speechless. Marco didn't mind; it gave him a chance to explain more.

"When I was moving to Canada with ma, you barely said anything. Then, as if it wouldn't be a bother to me at all, you let _them _stay with you."

"He is my brother," Mr. Del Rossi defended himself. "He was going through a rough time, and—"

"So was I, and I'm your son! You let your brother stay, and he was never even there. He was probably out gambling and whatnot," said Marco, absolutely done with the poorly thought out excuses.

"Marco," said his father sternly, discovering his voice again, "he is your uncle."

"Just as you are my father," said Marco coldly. "It doesn't make him a good person. You neither." Marco sighed. "After the court case, which I didn't even do, you just let me go back home without a word or question."

"I didn't think you wanted any," said his father.

"I didn't, but you're not supposed to care! You're supposed to hug me, ask if I'm okay…just something, dad! You're supposed to."

"Well, I'm sorry,' said his father, "but you didn't tell me that."

Marco was angry to see he was beginning to cry again. It seemed like that was what he had been doing quite frequently. "I'm not supposed to tell you. Ma just knows, dad. You would know too if you ever paid any attention," he said.

Marco's father sighed. "Are you done?" he asked. Marco took a deep breath.

"Yes," he said, "I'm finished." He assumed his dad was ready to speak his bit, so he waited for it, but his father was silent again. Marco couldn't figure what he must have been feeling, and he wanted his dad to explain, to tell him how he felt.

"I didn't call to be reprimanded," said Mr. Del Rossi, though that didn't come as a surprise to Marco.

"Why did you?" asked Marco.

"I wanted to talk—"

"—because you're alone!" he interrupted. "I could be bleeding to death over here, and you wouldn't call to ask how I was, but when _you _need me …"

Mr. Del Rossi sighed. "Your mother is brainwashing you, I see," he said.

"No," said Marco, "she's not. I've just come to see what has always been right in front of me, and I'm sick of you." Marco wondered if those were going to end up being the last words he'd ever give to his father. "I just can't deal with the fact that you're hurting me while you're so far away."

"Good-bye, Marco," said Mr. Del Rossi.

"Good-bye," Marco replied, ending the call. He knew that the slightly formal good-bye meant more than just for that day. Their relationship was gone forever, and though he felt slightly empty without it, things were improving greatly.

"Good-bye," he repeated to himself, walking out of his bedroom with a smile gracing his features. **He was okay. **

"Hey, ma," he spoke sweetly, seating himself at the kitchen table.

"Hi," she said, surprised that he was emerging from his bedroom when she hadn't called him for anything.

"How's work?" he asked. It was time to start appreciating his mother. She looked over at him curiously.

"Why?" she asked slowly.

Marco shrugged. "We need to talk," said Marco, "because that's been put off for way too long.

"I suppose you're right," Mrs. Del Rossi pulled off her apron, throwing it onto the counter, and turned the oven off. Dinner would have to wait. Who knew when her son would actually want to have a conversation again?

"So, how's work?" he repeated.

"Work is the same as always. Rather tedious. School?" she asked, feeling the need to constantly make the conversations about Marco.

"Same as always," he smiled. "Dylan and I are getting closer…again," said Marco.

Mrs. Del Rossi was confused. "Again?" she asked. Marco shrugged.

"Problems," he said vaguely, uninterested in expanding. "I'm kind of glad we moved here, though. Crazy as that sounds."

His mother smiled. "I'm so happy to hear you say that," she said.

Marco laughed. "I'm just glad I don't have to hear, 'I told you you'd like it,' and all that crap," he said.

The doorbell interrupted their short discussion. Marco volunteered to get it, ignoring his mother's pleading about how it would be much more sensible for her to get it. He threw open the door, and the smell of the boy's cologne blew into his face. He smiled, throwing his arms out for him. He didn't need to guess. He knew when it was Dylan. Dylan returned the hug gratefully, smiling as soon as he let go. Marco pulled him in behind him.

"Back so soon?" Marco asked, laughing.

"Yeah, I got the stupid work done, and here I am!" he said, throwing his arm around Marco's waist.

"Hello, Dylan," said Marco's mother, coming into the living room to greet the visitor.

"Hey, Mrs. Del Rossi," Dylan replied, just tightening his old on Marco instead of releasing him. Marco found it strange that he wasn't uncomfortable or ashamed with his mother seeing it that way.

"Soo," said Dylan, "your room?" he gestured down the hallway, catching Mrs. Del Rossi's eyes, asking if it was okay.

She waved her hand at him with a smile, returning to her home. The kitchen. Dylan, too, smiled, and led Marco to his room.

"This room," said Dylan, "still doesn't feel like you." He looked around, shaking his head.

Marco laughed. "I'm sorry?"

"It's okay," said Dylan, not realizing Marco was joking, and having a seat on the bed next to him.

Dylan took Marco's hand in his, just staring down at it in silence. It was peaceful, not awkward.

Suddenly, Marco pushed Dylan's hand away from him. "Can I…" he started, not certain of how he was going to ask.

"What?" asked Dylan, confused.

Marco took his hand, and brought it to Dylan's forehead. "I just want to, like…I don't know."

"Go ahead," said Dylan.

Marco gently ran his thumb across Dylan's forehead, trailing it slowly down his nose, reaching his cheekbone. He outlined every inch of it before reaching his closed lips. He traced them in the same way, surprised that Dylan could keep his mouth shut for so long.

"Smile," said Marco.

Dylan did as he was told, which made Marco smile as well. He felt his lips turn upward under his finger.

"I can feel your smile," he laughed. "Literally."

"Okay," said Dylan softly, letting Marco continue his travels.

Marco then put both of his hands gently on Dylan's shoulders, his face screwed up in concentration. While one hand traveled down from Dylan's right shoulder, his other rubbed quickly across the front of his neck. Marco's left hand rested on Dylan's knee, and his right hand ran through his curly hair.

Marco took both arms, and put them around Dylan's neck, leaning his head on his shoulder.

"Done?" Dylan asked, rubbing Marco's back, wondering if he was okay.

Marco nodded. "Mhmm," he answered. He picked his head up off of his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too, Marco," said Dylan, kissing him sweetly. "I really wish you could see me," he laughed.

"Dylan, wishing gets you nowhere," said Marco, having made the same wish many times before. "Just be happy that I'm here with you."

"Okay," said Dylan, "I definitely am."

"Me too," said Marco, kissing him again.

A/N: And…. it's over!! I know. I didn't believe it myself, but there it is. I hope you all liked it :) Please review, even if you never ever have before. I don't care.


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